I channelled my sister today. That is to say, I got organized. Well, let's not get crazy here: I got a little bit organized. Deirdre is actually showing up later this afternoon to get me really organized -- she is very good at directing the packing process, so anything I haven't taken care of yet is going to get done.
How I got organized was: every three days or so USC has been sending me information on this, that, and the other. Because there's been so much of it, I started storing it in one of the large legal-size envelopes that some of the information came in. The envelope started to bulge. I discovered that if I needed to find something in the envelope, I had to dump everything out, page through the papers, and then put everything back in.
Not very efficient.
So today I went upstairs to our loft, found a binder, went to Kinko's, put everything save the All Important Acceptance Letter into a three-hole punch, got some plastic sleeves and put the All Important Acceptance Letter in one, and put together my USC Info Binder. I can now page through and find things. I could even order the pages that are in there -- but let's not get crazy; my doing this much is pretty much a certifiable miracle according to the standards of the Roman Catholic Church.
One of the letters was on how to get prepared for graduate study in film. They sent lists of Recommended Films and Recommended Readings. I watched several of these films this summer. I admit I haven't been doing the readings, but I figure I'll get readers to read the books for me and prepare summaries.
The letter also said:
As another preparatory measure, you should be keeping a journal. I am sure many of you already do this. If you do, you know how essential an element of writing this is. Making daily observations will get you into the rhythm of the semesters [sic] work load. You will be doing a considerable amount of writing and 'seeing' in the following [sic] two years.
I think The Paperwork counts in this regard, don't you? I think so. Ha ha -- already I'm out in front. Writing may not be a competitive sport, but screenwriting sure as hell is.
Yesterday the info packet had "A Little Advice" for the incoming film graduate student: where to find stuff, what the facilities are, who to talk to, important phone numbers. They also mentioned a couple of things that made me very excited...and very scared.
My schedule up until yesterday sounded great: first class Monday evening, last class Thursday morning. So if I decided to come up and see Darin, I could do so for an extra-long weekend. This was reassuring to me, because spending time with Darin is an emotional security blanket for me.
Two programs mentioned in the Info Packet:
I thought: Wow, this is wonderful, this is totally great, these are exactly the kinds of things I want --
And I suddenly felt guilty. A weight settled on me and started crushing me to the ground. I'm going down to Los Angeles for this specific purpose, to immerse myself in films, film culture, and film business, and I feel guilty because something that I want to do would keep me from spending time with Darin. Like I might actually slip and enjoy myself during this period away from him.
As if the only proof of love were feeling agony and woe when you're not together. Do I want that from him: complete misery because I'm not curling up on the sofa with him at nights? If I knew that my going to USC were making him depressed and unhappy, I don't think I'd be able to do it.
Darin has told me the best way for me to take care of him is to take care of myself. And the wacky thing is, he means it. I have no idea how he got so evolved or how I managed to con him into staying with me.
I'm starting to get all weepy again as I write this. I am not usually a weepy kind o' chick. I didn't cry at my own wedding, I doubt I even cried on my first day of school. The other night, though, we went to Florentine's for dinner and when we sat down I felt myself on the verge of melting into a big puddle. Gordon joined us a little later on and I wondered if he noticed that periodically I started breathing in staccato bursts to keep from breaking down.
This weepiness could be a side effect from my drug withdrawal (see yesterday) or it could be my stress and fear finally breaking through. Or both. Who knows.
On NPR a delegate at the Republican Convention told the reporter that the Republicans were so wonderful because they are an all-inclusive party that allows people of many different persuasions to speak "which the Democrats don't do." (Not an exact quote, but she mentioned that some Democrat who is anti-choice was not allowed to speak at the last Democratic convention.)
I found myself wondering, The same Republicans who insisted on approving almost everyone's speech, and if a pro-choice stance was mentioned the speaker was dis-invited to attend? The same Republicans who, when Colin Powell (the only speaker whose speech was not pre-approved) mentioned his pro-choice and pro-affirmative-action stances, booed?
Is this what they call cognitive dissonance?
On a related note: can someone explain to me the point of having a four day, incredibly expensive convention whose outcome is not only generally known but has been choreographed for weeks? I mean, a point other than "to schmooze with the powerful and bribe them with booze and hookers." (If you haven't been reading James's reports from the Convention on talk.bizarre, you have to go read them right now.)
I have this same complaint about the upcoming Democratic convention, by the way -- I'm an equal opportunity complainer. Conventions no longer serve the purpose they once had, which was to find a candidate and get everyone to agree on him. The guy's been chosen, okay? Enough already.
Because tomorrow is the Big Day (or one of the Big Days in the next two weeks) and I'm going to be doing the Moving Thing all weekend, entries will be sporadic this weekend. One can only hope they'll be shorter than this monster entry was.