Posted in Categorize Me!, NYU, SDSU, Storytime

My First Roommate..part 1

How I imagined my first college roommate would be. DUMB.

1999. I had just gotten accepted at NYU Tisch and was in disbelief that my music video with the ejaculating fish had passed the admissions test. Or maybe it was my scene where I had my friend Randy breaking up with Drew Barrymore. Either way, I would finally move out of my parents house in San Diego and move to New York…I can FINALLY have a roommate.

I had this fantasy of becoming BFFs with my new roommate and it’s something like ‘A Different World’ … where everyone is funny and gets along.


I was assigned the 21st floor of a 26th Street Apartment in the Lower East Side. The fact that a) I had an email and b) I could say something like ‘the Lower East Side’ and actually know what I’m talking about made me feel ultra cool. I had started some preliminary emails with my new roommate. I think her name was Crystal. I had imagined this skinny, goofy blonde girl….maybe with freckles, hopefully with glasses or braces. Maybe she’ll be a popular girl type and will give me one of those Rachel in the ‘She’s All That’ movie where I am magically hot with the proper haircut, makeup and outfits. Maybe she would teach me to how to bring the boys to the yard because no boys knew I had any yards in the first place. All the positive stories I had written in my mind. She said she would bring the microwave and I would bring the….radio? I forget.

After flying across country with one suitcase full of as much of my stuff I could bring with me (my parents didn’t approve of me going to film school, so I pretty much had to do everything myself), I dragged my ass to the Super Shuttle, listened to my discman for 3 hours until I was dropped off to my new dorm, waited 4 elevator trips until I got to my room (there was weirdly 2 elevators for 28 floors. Like, WHAT?) and found my tiny apartment. I open the door. It’s a 600 sq foot apartment for 4 females. I was the second to arrive. I open the door with my name taped on it and see that Crystal had already gotten settled. She had claimed the bottom bunk (we had bunk beds…which incidentally, I was excited about because — roommate fantasy of pillow fights and gossip) and therefore, I had the top bunk bed. She had placed the television in the middle of our dormitory desks (provided by the university. Thanks, cause I got NOTHING) and her clothes was hung in half of the closet. I didn’t even have hangers, so it didn’t matter.

Crystal came home and she was NOTHING like I imagined. She was dressed like a gangster — big shirt, baggy corduory jeans, Adidas sneakers, blonde curly hair that went down her back, super pale with dark eyeliner that seemed to be traced around her eyes multiple times. Her voice was low.

“Hi, I’m your new roommate”

“Hi. My parents already came and moved everything. When are your parents coming?”

“Oh. They’re not…here. They’re in California. I just have this suitcase” and point to a battered old grandma looking suitcase that wanted to be put out to pasture to die with the other old suitcases.

Uncomfortable silence. Uh-oh. The smiles and laughter of my fictitious imaginary sleepover party was vanishing away. I didn’t realize that I might have somebody who had the personality of a tree stump. Only to find, that our time together will get worse.

To be continued…

Posted in NYU, Storytime

Write or not to write, which is the right question? (cheesy mode)

When I originally applied to film school, I thought “I’m going to be a music video director!” I love music and I love music videos.  Often times, I see a music video and I’d think “Oh, Ben Folds, you should’ve hired me, I could’ve done much better”. I also hate those b-roll music videos…where they show the band preparing for a concert, where they’re throwing peace signs at the camera, or joking around and signing autographs.  Basically, it’s a video to show “how cool we are”. I wanted to change that because I thought that was LAZY music video-ing.

So, I show up to film school and find out, maybe I’m not cut out for music video making but rather comedy writing.  I would make these short films (based on my fear and terror of being in New York City and by myself with no friends) that would accentuate my experiences of being an Pacific-Islander girl not knowing how to cross the street in NYC or finding strange things in my food.  Apparently, these films actually evoked laughter from my audience.  I tried to do a dramatic one about a break-up and I just got confused looks.  So I went back to comedy and did a short about NSYNC solving the Monkey Master Mystery and of course, that was voted in the student film festival.

I took a writing course (we all had to take writing. Believe me, some of the cinematographers needed it.  There was this one French guy who shot amazing things but I had no idea what was going on.  As part of his assessment, I said “I don’t understand the story..what was…is there something going on?” and he replied with “But it is beautiful, no??” Well, yeah but we don’t care for vapid beautiful work (unless you’re in LA.)) Anyway, I took this writing comedy writing course and I just excelled at it.  I don’t know why I did, I don’t think I’m truly inherently funny but rather, I appreciate humor and tend to add on top of that.  But whatever, I’ll take it!

So, our final project was to write a spec script.  I wrote a South Park script where Cartman’s babysitter  turned out to be Vanilla Ice’s half-sister/ex-girlfriend.  Vanilla Ice came back to South Park to win her back and challenged Cartman to a duel via Dance Dance Revolution.  Well, apparently, this script KILLED in the read-through and I thought….maybe I can do this. Maybe?

My professor took me aside and said that I should really pursue comedy writing and that I had a talent for it. Really?  She said I should start shopping scripts and writing sketches and maybe try stand up comedy (um, NO way).  She thought of my humor as “Woody Allen”-esque.  Sort of self deprecating and witty.  So I took this advice and…..

did nothing.

I didn’t write a damn thing.  I left school, got a corporate job for good money and health insurance and there you go.  A few years later, got myself a boyfriend, got my own place, got doggies I really wanted, got the car I really wanted, got a comfy salary.  I’m thinking, this should be enough, right? This is enough to be happy for the rest of my life.

But every now and then, I think about writing.  I’d like to write a script.  Maybe a short story. Maybe a short film. But I never do it. I talk about it and never do it.  I think my problem is that I find writing to be self-indulgent. I mean, for god sakes, I’m writing a blog about ME. My writing now is mememememmemememe. I just feel uncomfortable about writing anything that reveals how vulnerable and lame and uncool I really am.

So I’m trying to find hobbies to fulfill this somewhat vague desire to write.  I joined trivia night. I tried a running club.  I trained for a triathalon.  I travel extensively.  I took dog classes (I am terrible at Agility).  And yet, I still think about writing.  I think its because I really want to write drama but secretly know I should write comedy.  Also, I think comedy takes a lot out of me.  I have to be hyper-aware of social cues, social commentary and exposing the stuff we don’t really want to talk about but is hilarious when we release it to the audience to laugh about.

Anyway, anybody who knows me, knows I’ve been thinking about it and then declining to do anything about it.

The reason I write this blog entry is because the writing urges are becoming more and more apparent.  So I decided to sign up for a comedy writing class at The Groundlings or Upright Citizens Brigade.  I may have lost my humor but I might as well find out, right?  If anything, I’ll get to write for a few weeks and maybe I’ll be all written out that I can finally close this chapter and say “Yes, this is enough.”

Posted in NYU, San Diego, Storytime

The Thora Birch mentality

I once was in an actor’s class in college. These classes were mandatory in order for us to graduate. Since we were all aspiring filmmakers, acting was a pertinent part of composing a film. The mentality was “How are you going to tell actors what to do and how to feel if you do not know the process they go through?” In retrospect, I recall how difficult it was to go in front of a class to do a scene. It was unbelievably scary to go up in front of a class (especially dramatic scenes) and portray a character with intense emotions. When I went up, (I did a scene from Grosse Pointe Blank where the female lead finds out her boyfriend is a hitman) and I had to bring intense emotions to the forefront and relive how it felt to be hurt, disappointed, crushed, upset and angry all at the same time. Needless to say, I have felt those emotions concurrently and I did not want to do it because I just felt so naked in front of all these people who believed me to be a happy-go-lucky and overall complacent person in public. I suppose it was because it was voluntarily exposing a very private part of myself that I’m not necessarily ashamed to show but am just accustomed to keeping it behind closed doors ( a closeted ’emotionalist’ I suppose).

I also had to do this other part in American Beauty where I played the daughter. I recall it being the scene where her father (kevin spacey) and her mother were having asparagus and he gets so angry he throws the asparagus against the wall. I just remember being so angry (the appropriate emotion for the part)

Why do I bring this up? For some odd reason I’ve been feeling very angry. Not anything particular. I suppose the tumultousnous of being a twenty-something. The observations of society that annoy me. The feeling that I don’t “feel alive” unless I feel pain and the feeling that I am not my own person but a cumulination of various experiences and pop culture references. I don’t feel the need to lash out anything specific and I assure you having uncertainty in your life makes it much more interesting. However, uncertainty can be the bane of my existence and lead me to believe that settling for security and complacency is the overall answer. I don’t know. I’m rambling. I’m just angry at everything and nothing.

But, don’t take this as if I’m not able to function in social gatherings or the work environment. Not so. It just sort of amusing to me to feel so angry and be able to smile and conversate with anyone or anything. Such a bizarre dichotomy existing within me.

But, as Wilbur pointed out, I could just be sexually frustrated. Eh. Whatever. Sex is way overrated. (I say this now and I guarantee you I will change my opinion soon enough)

I think I’ll numb my thoughts out with Road Rules versus the Real World.

Farewell, cruel world.

Posted in Nonsensical, NYU

dvd wish list

oh yeah. My dad bought me 3 new dvds: Office Space, The Mummy (yes, I should really hate this movie but it has great Indiana Jones nostalgia and I love Indiana Jones) and Sneakers.

Yes, (as my friend Tyler pointed out) I should have had these dvds already but all my friends have ’em, so when I feel the urge, I just steal theirs. Except sneakers. I have that on tape. But now I have the widescreen version. AWWW SHIT.

Anyways, remember when I said I was addicted to LOTR (btw, I’ve seen the Two Towers 3 times already. I think I’m probably going to watch it 2 more times. One time with my brother and one more time when they show the trailer for RETURN OF THE KING. I’m in love with Office Space. Since I have the dvd, I can’t stop watching it. It’s absolutely brilliant. That, and whenever I watch the main guy pick up Jennifer Aniston, that is what you call absolutely fucking great. I wished guys did that more often. It’s so fucking sexy. Whew!

Anyway, next on the list (of sharon’s dvd wish list):

A Clockwork Orange
Shawshank Redemption (I have the vhs tape)
Panic Room
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
The Indiana Jones Box Set
The X-files…all the seasons (That’s going to be a tough one)
All About My Mother
X-Files: Fight the Future
12 monkeys. (I had 12 monkeys but my friend Randy stole it and took with him to Japan. That bastard)