I don't even know where to start. I feel so numb right now. I'm looking for things to do in order to stop thinking. Thinking is always my downfall; it's my downfall today.
It hasn't been a particularly great day, although I've definitely come up some since this morning. So I'm just going to ramble a bit. Hope you don't mind.
Watched Casablanca last night. Great movie. Great romantic movie. I've said this before and I'll say it again -- the problem with romances/romantic comedies these days is that one member of the triangle is always so unappealing that you cannot believe for one second that the main character would choose that person. Not. A. Chance. In this movie, you know that Ingrid wants Humphrey but needs to be with Paul, and both are acceptable choices. That's why the ending hurts.
In today's movie world, they would have made Paul Henreid a self-centered bastard who would leave without her, or a philanderer, or secretly gay or something. Thereby making it acceptable -- required, actually -- for Ingrid to go running off with Humphrey and leave that terrible bastard poseur to his fate in North Africa.
After class today I ran into Erica on the way to the student center. I asked if she was having lunch and she said yes. I don't know if she wanted the company, but I joined her anyway. (I told you I was in a bad mood.)
We chatted a bit. I did my usual nervous thing of interviewing her -- what does she like to write, what does she think of the program so far, why did she decide to go to film school, that kind of thing. I didn't talk about myself much.
I came home, later than I expected (I had to check out some video equipment to use this weekend) and I sat down to read mail. Then -- wham! -- it hit me that earlier this week I had written down some info about internships and development jobs that I'd gotten at the production office...that I knew I wouldn't get around to until Thursday or so. So here was Thursday.
(Students in the program said to wait until second semester to get an internship, until you're all settled and know what's what, but as Darin put it, I have at most 100 weeks here in Los Angeles. Less than that, of course, because the program ends in May, but 100 is a nice round number. And I've already been here for three of them. Time's a'wastin'.)
I made a couple of phone calls and made arrangements to fax cover letters and resumes to a few people. I decided that I'd better quit until I'd written the damn cover letter to send to these people. And until I'd found out if my fax software still works. Then I'd call around and send out letters.
I can procrastinate at the drop of a hat. Or at the expectation of a hat being dropped. Or perhaps the mention of going hat shopping. The word "felt" lets me know the entire afternoon, or even week, is free.
And now we get to the reason I'm in this awful mood.
Before I tell this story, I should explain something about myself. I dither. Some people call this wavering; some equivocating; Pres. Clinton calls it polling his advisors. Whatever. I dither. I can be sitting there, looking at the sky, thinking, Gosh, what a beautiful blue sky, and you come along, look up, and say, "The sky is all green." Suddenly I am in a quandary: is it blue or is it green? Well, it's mostly blue, but blue and green are close on the color scale, and actually, now that you mention it, I can see a bit of green in it...
You get the picture. Only what color the sky is is easy. I think I could stick to my guns about that one.
Today in Directing class I was one of 5 people to do the "hot object" exercise. We were supposed to bring to class some object that meant a lot to us. Then, in turn, each of us would stand in front of the class, holding the object, and describe the object as accurately and specifically as possible -- not "it's kind of round" but "it's round". Simple facts about the object. Then, when the teacher felt we were sufficiently in the moment and really looking at the object, she would say, "Memory," and we'd go on and on about some memory attached to the object.
At the end of the exercise, she asked the rest of the class about what action the speaker was showing, in the form "I want to (verb) (person)." Such as, "I want to sell you this car," or "I want to convince you I am trustworthy." The motivation behind the Memory portion of the exercise.
I did my wedding ring.
Big, big fucking mistake.
I described it. I talked about how shiny it was on our honeymoon. I talked about the day going to buy it, and how the fact that it's non-symmetrical is a total pain. I don't know what I said.
What the class got out of it:
What did I say oh my God this is horrible how can they say that is this true is this what I'm showing but I love Darin doesn't that come through I guess it doesn't am I just saying the words I don't think so God I'm missing him so much and I can't even come off sounding like I love him?
(For comparison, here are a few of the "actions" other students heard that they were doing: "to convince you I'm not dangerous," "to jack off," "to convince you I'm not homesick," "to prove to you it's only a funny story," "to prove to you I'm no longer a little boy.")
I was pretty much in shock the rest of class. I went back and forth. I almost ran and grabbed a phone to call Darin to get him to comfort me long-distance, though of course he'd be at work and not in the mindset (or the location) to do any such thing.
During the break I saw a number of other students, all female, standing together, and I went to talk to them -- to talk to someone, to get feedback, to get comfort, and, most importantly, to stop gossip. Isn't that awful? No one said anything about my "hot object" exercise -- Jackie asked me, "Isn't your husband still living up north?" and when I said yes, a couple of the women said that that must be hard.
Someone else mentioned that another student's marriage has broken up. They're getting divorced; evidently film school was the straw.
Everyone in the class has to do the exercise. A couple of the students who hadn't gone yet said that they were going to be very, very careful when it came time to do theirs.
I went up to the teacher after class, because I knew if I didn't say something I would burst out in tears. I said, "I have to admit I'm a little reluctant to say anything more in class." She looked at me as though she had no idea why. (She has been married three times, after all.) "You were fine, your exercise was very good."
No big deal, you know.
No, gee, and every insecurity I've ever had about togetherness and love and whether I can possibly measure up to being with Darin hasn't just ripped through me like a hurricane. No big deal.
This afternoon Glenn helped me carry the video equipment to my car. He also did the "hot objects" exercise today -- he got the "I want to convince you I'm not dangerous." He asked me what I thought of the class. I said it had really ruined my day. He wasn't much happier about it.
I have nothing scheduled to do tomorrow. I'll do the cover letters and faxes then. I promise.