a victoria p


03 December 2007

I'm awfully good at writing about myself.

I'm sitting over a glass of red wine, which I should not be having or planning on having, but after being on the phone with my father for an hour, I remembered that alcohol exists and that sometimes people turn to it in stressful situations to calm themselves. I haven't taken a sip yet. I'm listening to Brigitte Bardot and Serge Gainsbourg's album, Bonnie et Clyde, which is such a mix of songs of all different genres and sort of cheesy but I can't help but love it. Truthfully, I'm listening to the album track over and over again, which was probably in some movie that I probably haven't seen.

My mind is playing a montage of all-corresponding life moments in which I made seemingly wrong decisions, mostly concerning college and career choices, maybe one or two promiscuous situations thrown in like glue, with Bonnie et Clyde as the soundtrack. I've caught myself telling my parents "But, I'm only twenty one," on more than one occasion in the last few days. My dad finally barked back at me, telling me that he was only twenty one when he was offered a job as a federal agent. The reality of the situation being, I'm just short a couple of weeks of being twenty two, the beginning of the end of a life lived thus far with many excuses.

I took my first, bitter sip of the Primitivo I purchased on the way home that I had been planning on saving until I found a new job. The thing is, I'm basically allergic to wine, especially red wine, which is higher in sulfites, the things I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to. I have gotten hives in the past, as well as an awful hangover, including massively swollen lips and a wretched headache. For right this moment, I'm nearly okay with poisoning myself and this wine seems to only be a mild way of doing so.

Choosing to go back to school was a choice I had to come to on my own accord. There is only one program I want to go to and only one program I will apply to. It's a transfer program, that offers a dual BA/MA if you transfer with a certain amount of credits. Since I was a pathetic seven some-odd credits short of a degree at FIT, I'll be qualified to finish my BA while starting my MA. All in something I really want to do, learn and grow with. "Selling out" for advertising and public relations was something I could only do once. I now have big life plans to go to school for screenwriting, continuing on to become a poor screenwriter with more debt than I already have. The only difference is I'll have a degree and maybe a few more ideas and some general (professional?) structure, to go along with that. I think, as far as writing and english and art all go, it has always been hard for me to accept people who go to college for strictly that. I only look at it that way so critically because I myself have been on the picket line of going to school for english before. I have for the most part felt that if the talent is there and recognized, that it should be practiced more so outside of a potentially jading school environment. Screenwriting, I feel differently about. Don't get me wrong, I realize that it is a totally bombarded media based strongly on connections and money, like anything else. I just feel that it is so much dependent on format, structure and the equation even, of being done correctly. Furthermore, as a business, much like any business, it is absolutely necessary to be knowledgeable in these appropriate structures in order to get anywhere in pitching your ideas, especially in such a cluttered media.

...perhaps I should just buy a few books and save myself the 90,000 or so, US dollars in debt.

I woke up one day when I was sixteen and wrote some terrible fucking plays, dare they be called that, to start toward a portfolio I only incompletely submitted. And here I am today, almost twenty two and not being able to sleep at night because of that.

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