starting the film publicity

So I need to start some publicity as I head forth into more pre-production. My intermediate level film, "The Park" will be produced and shot some time this semester. So check it out and help me out. CLICK HERE FOR FILM FUN

awesomeness? maybe?

I'll confess that I'm still on a bit of a high from last Thursday despite the fact that every time I think of my Thursday schedule, I die a little inside. Maybe it's the fact that I'm running around like a madwoman from Waverly and Broadway to 14th Street and 4th Ave with less than 15 minutes to spare...and then after that class I return to Waverly and Broadway...with less than 15 minutes to spare. Perhaps it's the fact that I simply forgot to schedule lunch or a break for myself on those days or that with the 15 minute power walks included, I have class from 9:30-4:45 and then production meetings after that. Oh well.
But despite the minor elements of Thursday boot camp, life was awesome last Thursday. Yeah, the geek in me is going to come out. Brace yourself, I'm sorry but it's going to happen. So after class and the production meetings Thursday, I attended a master class taught by Philip Quast. In case you don't know who he is, google him...but among other things, he was Javert in the original production of Les Miserables.
For me it's more than just meeting people who I look up to in the theatrically sense. For my friends I think it's a bit different.
After telling some fellow geeks, here are some reactions:
"WHAT THE FUCK seriously?!?!"
"did you throw your underwear at him?!?!?!?! because I would have"
So sorry friends, there was no throwing of underwear, signing of cleavage, or anything of the sort. In fact, I attempt to keep to professionalism and was not particularly tempted to throw off my clothes or anything. Who wants to see that anyway?
But the the class was awesome. I hadn't been expecting his personality to be as light and fun as it was. He threw students around the room to loosen them up, forced them to run around the room with him to get "puffed" for the breathlessness of a song or emotion, picked students up, danced with them (men and women). And when a student seemed to have faltered on who or what to sing his emotions about, Mr. Quast grabs him by the face and places to huge kisses on each of his cheeks and says, "Now you've got something to sing about, hmm? Now sing."
About a half hour into the class, right after a guy had sung, Quast clasped his hands and said, "Well, how about a woman's voice now?"
No sooner does he do that does a woman open the door and in the bitchiest (great vocabulary, I know) voice possible, says, "Whatever activity is going on in this room is over now. Everyone out. $20 are you kidding me? These signs? What do you think you're doing?"
With that a club advisor went outside and one of the board members to talk to her and Quast looks around at us and says, "In a way, that's very bad acting. Coincidental, but very bad acting. I said that I wanted to hear a female voice, but that's not really what I was expecting. It was far too much, too planned, and well...just bad acting."
The matter was sorted quickly. I even went outside to try and call a friend to help get us another room and Quast and my professor thanked me and then the workshop continued on without interruption.
Quast's workshop was based on the idea of letting music or musicality and lyrics guide performance, to take hints from the music itself or to create beat or rhythm where the music does not. I found it strangely coincidental that I had experimented with the very same technique over the summer. To have a professional doing the same thing was a little beyond me.
There was also the benefit of being the only film major in the class when the master class was titled "Screen, Shakespeare, and Song." He would refer to me if I agreed or disagreed with him about cinematography. At one point when someone was singing, he brought his hands in on her face on her last note to signify a close up and on the last dragging note, I clawed my hand and brought it back to signify a crane pull back. Incredibly excited, he pointed to me, clapped his hands and cried, "Exactly! Yes!" and redid my action bolder for the class.
Awesome.
I find it strange just how much he reiterated things that I had already known or felt before personally. There was, of course, the teaching method that I spoke about. But Quast, like myself says he finds musical theatre and film so closely related that it's easy to see how one draws from the other. And Jill studies film for what reason?
Here's a bit of Quast from ala YouTube from his most notable role in Les Miserables.

Sundays in Connecticut

Often I can't help but find the humor in bad timing. I found the necessity to come to Connecticut this weekend to meet people both in the business sense and on the personal level. So that meant was coffee and dinner and snow. Because without the snow, things would have run too smoothly for me. But that's ok. Coffee was delayed slightly, but my time there was preductive enough. I was caught up on all that was happening with "Voices in Conflict" and vented my career woes to someone in the industry. Overall, rather productive for me.
Next was the arduous job of finding directions that my feeble mind could understand to get dinner with a teacher of mine from high school. Once the frustration of a snow route could be figured out, everything worked out fine. Dinner was fun and it was good to talk and catch up again.
Despite the fact that I had hoped to return to New York tonight, the snow delayed that process. My wittle baby Scion was unable to hand even the smallest amount snow on the ground. It's ok, Baby Scion, we understand you were just a cheap car bought as a replacement for our ever reliable Jeep, may he rest in peace. It's ok, you're cute too though...you're just useless sometimes.
But if there's anything that's clear it's that in the months I've been away in Europe I've matured. I may not displayed that openly, but I feel it. I'm not as timid about living on my own. I find that the return to the small town feels like a movie, a nostalgic return where everyone knows you and wants to say hello. Funny that I didn't feel that the entire time that I was home over break and yet today I felt nearly bombarded with compliments, people happy to see me, to know how I was doing. You're hair looks great. Personally, I think it's lacking a bit lately. You look so great! Just great! adflkja;dlfkjasldfkjaldsfkj I can't say I don't like the attention though. It's a pleasant boost after the last few weeks of loneliness and self loathing and anxiety attacks. That's slowly falling away as I start to distract myself with school and friends. A relief in many ways.
Yes, I think slowly but surely I'm drifting away from this lifestyle in the suburbs where Connecticut may be nothing but a visit on a Sunday. Saturdays are too entertaining and Sundays are too calm in the city that the pleasantries of small town living are best observed on Sundays at the local market, at the local library, or in the living rooms. How strangely picturesque to imagine a roaring fire in place of a high rise view of Manhattan. Maybe it's most days in New York and Sundays in Connecticut and that's simply how I have to visit from now on.

Preparing for Tuesday

Thing accomplished on the way to color sync

Script is better and more or complete. Another revision or two should get rid of some awkwardness in the scene or dialogue.
I have a producer for my film.
I'm already getting used to lack of sleep so I'm prepared for shoot.

working hard

me: just sitting behind the desk picking your nose

Sent at 1:06 PM on Tuesday

shtroodel: my nose?

how can you pick my nose?

me: i meant to say that's what you're up to

shtroodel: i wish!

i don't even have time for a good nose picking

me: I'm not giving you a * hits you high five * bs thing

shtroodel: cuz my hand is filled with boogers?

me: damn it noga

noga working at work...i've heard it all now

Sent at 1:10 PM on Tuesday

shtroodel: hahah i know right?

did hell freeze over or what?

is that why its so cold outside?

jill why is it so cold outside?

can you see flying pigs out your window?

Sent at 1:16 PM on Tuesday

me: yeah they were really obnoxious and now I have to clean my windows - they left such a mess

Sent at 1:18 PM on Tuesday

shtroodel: haha

stupid pigs

thats why we don't eat them jill

you don't want that filth inside you

me: well you should tell the koreans that - they'll eat anything

shtroodel: i would

but i'm scared

what if they try to eat me?

Sent at 1:27 PM on Tuesday

me: they're too stupid

you're thinking of rabid horses

shtroodel: haha ah yes

i always get the two confused

no i don't!

me: contradicting yourself now

shtroodel: jill why are you manipulating our conversation to make me come out as some asshole

i don't like this

i need an adult!

i need an adult!!!!

me: I am now because I just turned 21 so shut it

shtroodel: hahah true

are you gonna start acting like a bigshot now

are you gonna stop needing me

are you gonna rebel

me: yeah with all my ridiculous drinking habits

shtroodel: hahah

me: I will tear this family apart, i swear to god

shtroodel: hahaha

look at what you've become

me: yeah well you know what? I LIKE it

shtroodel: hahaha

yeah

yeah

you WOULD

or rather

YOU would

or maybe

YOU WOULD

Lemons = Orange Juice

Thanks to my little brother for taking this picture at Stop & Shop.

ttfn english lang

Why the fuck is this news?

"New York Post, Susannah Cahalan

This Kid's a Text Maniac

January 11, 2009 --

Greg Hardesty didn't LOL when he got his teen daughter's cellphone statement.

All he could think was "OMG!"

The California man's 13-year-old daughter, Reina, racked up an astonishing 14,528 text messages in one month. The online AT&T statement ran 440 pages.

"First, I laughed. I thought, 'That's insane, that's impossible,' " the 45-year-old dad said. "And I immediately whipped out the calculator to see if it was humanly possible."

He found it was - barely.

It works out to 484 text messages a day, or one every two minutes of every waking hour.

"Then I thought maybe AT&T made some mistake on the bill," said Hardesty, of Silverado Canyon.

The reporter for the Orange County Register grilled his daughter on her texting habit - by text message, of course.

"Who are you texting, anyway? Your entire school?" he asked.

"Well, a lot of my friends have unlimited texting. I just text them pretty much all the time," she explained.

She messages a core of "four obsessive texters" - all girls between the ages of 12 and 13 - on her LG phone.

Reina had a karaoke birthday party, and while other people were singing, she was texting her best friend sitting right next to her.

She even texted her friends to brag about the high number of text messages she had logged when her parents got the statement.

Her texting soared last month because "it was winter break and I was bored," Reina told her parents.

Luckily, Hardesty has a phone plan that allows unlimited texting for $30 a month. Otherwise, he estimates, he would have owed AT&T $2,905.60 at a rate of 20 cents per message.

The average number of monthly texts for a 13- to 17-year-old teen is 1,742, according to a Nielsen study of cellphone usage.

Hardesty admits he himself punches in 900 messages a month - 700 more than average for his age group, according to Nielsen.

Hardesty and his ex-wife have since placed restrictions on Reina's cellphone use, ruling she cannot text after dinner."

That's fine. I suppose I shouldn't be too worried about the death of real social skills or the English language. Let's not forget these unforgettable New York Times bestsellers:

Suck it

Awesome

bestsellers

Harmonizing

A friend of mine (close in age) tried out eHarmony with no success. With thoughts today on how I need to get a grip on my life and how I should see if my personality would match with anyone, I thought I'd put myself up to the same challenge - at least for the shits and giggles of it. It is a free trial anyway. Besides, I'm procrastinating packing and what better way to do that than by filling out a length questionare.

The pictures is  little small:

"Our matching system was not able to find any new matches for you right now.

However, we are always automatically searching for new matches for you. Several thousand people join eHarmony each day and our matching system evaluates each one of them within 24 hours to see if they are a great match for you.

We will notify you via email when matches are found or you can check your My Matches page at eHarmony whenever you like.

Our matching criteria, based on the 29 dimensions of compatibility, are extremely strict, and are what makes eHarmony a unique and powerful tool in finding your soul mate. We will keep searching and hope to find some wonderful matches for you soon."

About Face

Hey anyone who may wander onto this, show some love for my buddy Sam's film, "About Face." The film's been completed. I'm sure my incessant nagging was no help, but my copy of the DVD can probably be attributed to that. Here's the trailer. Check out more at www.aboutfacefilm.net

"About Face" trailer from Sam Halajian on Vimeo.

I'm a loser...who likes musical theatre

I find this little piece that was pro-recorded of the show I saw in Vienna. I'm not afraid to say that it was probably the best show I've seen. Everything from the staging to the casting. It all worked wonderfully. Plus, I got to talk to some of the cast members and saw Uwe Kröger, the top German-speaking musical theatre male-performer. A nice treat for a musical theatre geek such as myself.

Snuggie

Hey, Boss!

-Yeah?

We got a little problem down at the plant.

-Oh?

Seems as if Bill accidentally reset the machinery. I don't think we'll be able to sell any of our robes this season.

-What exactly happened?

Well, looks as if all the sleeves were placed on backwards.

-So we're looking at a bunch of backwards robes, huh?

Yes, sir.

-Don't worry about it. I've got an idea.

superpowers

That's right. I wrote on facebook in the future.

Israel

Dear friends visiting and/or living in Israel,

I miss you. Come back State-side.

Love,

Jill

reverse culture something

Why am I here?

Yeah, I don't write often in my blog even though I tell myself too. Whatever no one reads it anyway. This "attempt of motivation" is certainly not proving to be a very good one, but I don't care anymore. Really, I'm just caring less and less about things.

Is that the reverse culture shock or whatever they want to call it? Maybe. The "welcome home" has been nothing than just being thrown into a pile of crap. I arrive a few days before the holiday, the most stressful time of year to find that I'm still stressed out, I'm still confused and I'm just plain tired. I'm frustrated, I'm confused, I'm anxious and I don't want to be here. I wasn't ready to leave Berlin. That's a strange thought. I never thought I would ever consider Germany a home. My home, for that matter. And it's not just now that I'm feeling this blow. Nope, I've been feeling it for awhile. The airport frustration was enough to worry about in Berlin and in Frankfurt, but when I got to Philly and was actually slightly more well rested and hydrated, I still knew it then. Philly was America and that's not what I wanted or was ready for. I had barely been back in the States - I hadn't even stepped outside the airport area - and internally I was already screaming.

All right, enough of that, right? No, sorry. Apparently the four months that pass mean little to most people including my family and arguments and aggravation start soon after. Flush away my ability to make a decent Christmas and with that goes my ability to enjoy a birthday. My 21st, by the way. It matters little to me, to be honest. Birthdays rarely do. I gave up attempting to celebrate them. I plan, a little, but even the simplest of things seem to go awry. I can usually only depend on a few people. But what is there to do anyway? 

Congrats, Jill, you can drink...just like you have for the past 4 months in Europe, but it doesn't matter anyway because you really don't drink. AWESOME.

I don't know what it is with me. The anxiety attacks lately are more than I can handle and I don't think I can blame it on culture shock anymore. I'm just frustrated with them now. I hate the anxiety and panic attacks when I have absolutely no idea where they are coming from and they are so paralyzing that I feel like vomiting and I start sweating. Really, they are incredibly pleasant as you can imagine. I almost passed out in a Gap changing room the other day from one.

Lack of nicotine? Maybe. I always prided myself for not being a "real" smoker and I couldn't help but be a bit disgusted with myself for being one. I usually quit easily, but with the onslaught of severe anxiety, a cigarette sounds like the medicine of Gods. But I can't. Maybe that's part of it. I drove myself into another anxiety attack today with a craving for one and then held back. Thankfully my cheap personality keeps me away from actually buying cigarettes so that keeps addiction far enough away.

So if anyone actually reads this...Hi, I'm back in the States. I'm far behind on anything I ever promised to write. I've been to myself and bad to people. I'm upset without the ability to pinpoint reason. And I'm a mess. A complete, complete mess. Sorry.