Why is it that I seem unable to write entries in this for weeks at a time and then, when i do write something, realize that I do have stuff to say, and have to write multiple entries.
Anyway, I realize that I may have seemed rather miserable in my last spate of entries. This is because I was rather miserable. However, day by day, almost so imperceptibly that I don't notice it happening, I seem to hate it here less. Right now I've reached the stage of almost liking it. Bizarre.
Anyway, here are the good things:
1 - Have met some nice people. Actually feel like there's someone here now who I could describe as a proper friend. We sit on the porch in the evening drinking wine, smoking cigarettes, and watching the crazy folks of Hollywood Blvd pass us by. It's like being back in London. Only warmer.
2 - Despite still being unable to work for actual money (come on work permit), I've been doing some interny-type script-reading stuff to fill the time. Which I'm actually finding interesting. I'm also working on producing a documentary with Scott. It's an investigation into the reasons why so many amusement parks are closing around America. Actually pretty interesting. Scott's provided the initial idea, I'm structuring the brainstorms into something that resembles a cohesive thesis. Also doing the research and production organisation. He is also going to do all the on-camera interviewing stuff, which he loves and which scares me senseless. It's great when you have someone there to cover your weak spots!
3 - I'm just about to book tickets to come back to London for a week in March to attend the wedding of an old friend! Would love to meet up with anyone who is around then.
Good things do happen in threes.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Escape from L.A.
Have just got back from a weekend in San Francisco, where a film Scott worked on was showing at the SF indiefest. I had mixed feelings about attending this event. On the plus side, I love San Franciso, and it would be fun to get out of L.A. for a few days. On the minus side, it involved spending a concentrated amount of time with a group of people who haven't been particularly friendly towards me. When Scott announced that he'd got work in Denver for a week immediatly following the festival I decided to go, so I could actually spend a bit of time with my husband.
It turned out that I made the right decision, and had a wonderful weekend. Stayed with some of Scott's friends who live in the Tenderloin, who were the loveliest hosts one could wish for. Made friends with a girl who was showing a documentary she had made about South Afrikan women in hip hop. It was educational, and we had a lot of fun hanging out. As for the friends who I don't like...well, I managed to not spend too much time with them. Cameron (the one from this crowd who I actually really like) got immensely drunk and melancholic, and I volunteered to look after him. Although this sounds like a bit of a chore, there's a weird part of me that feels better about myself when i'm looking after someone. Or maybe it's just that looking after a drunk boy made me feel like I was back at home. Who knows? Did have to go for lunch with those I did not like. It was awkward, but I think I made noises in all the required places. Although I had to restrain myself when someone was confused by the word jettison. And when they didn't realize that Alcatraz was no longer functioning. And when it took 20 minutes (no joke) to divide the restaurant bill. Must stop myself being such a snobby bitch. It's just not the done thing here.
San Francisco is good for the soul. Maybe I just needed to be back in a proper city for a while. Walking down streets full of crowds of people, with life and dreams and stories at every turn, is something that I'd learnt to take for granted. Too often L.A. feels like a ghost city, with empty streets and lines of cars driving off into very private futures. Weird that a town famous for storytelling seems so void of emotion.
It turned out that I made the right decision, and had a wonderful weekend. Stayed with some of Scott's friends who live in the Tenderloin, who were the loveliest hosts one could wish for. Made friends with a girl who was showing a documentary she had made about South Afrikan women in hip hop. It was educational, and we had a lot of fun hanging out. As for the friends who I don't like...well, I managed to not spend too much time with them. Cameron (the one from this crowd who I actually really like) got immensely drunk and melancholic, and I volunteered to look after him. Although this sounds like a bit of a chore, there's a weird part of me that feels better about myself when i'm looking after someone. Or maybe it's just that looking after a drunk boy made me feel like I was back at home. Who knows? Did have to go for lunch with those I did not like. It was awkward, but I think I made noises in all the required places. Although I had to restrain myself when someone was confused by the word jettison. And when they didn't realize that Alcatraz was no longer functioning. And when it took 20 minutes (no joke) to divide the restaurant bill. Must stop myself being such a snobby bitch. It's just not the done thing here.
San Francisco is good for the soul. Maybe I just needed to be back in a proper city for a while. Walking down streets full of crowds of people, with life and dreams and stories at every turn, is something that I'd learnt to take for granted. Too often L.A. feels like a ghost city, with empty streets and lines of cars driving off into very private futures. Weird that a town famous for storytelling seems so void of emotion.
What's in a name
People in LA have strange names. I'm presuming that this is more a sign of "creative" people moving to L.A. rather than a random geographic anomoly.
For example, last week I met a frind of Scott's who is named Shoe. This is weird enough in itself, but even more bizarre when you factor in that I have already met another friend of Scott's who is called Boot. These two people do not know each other.
A few weeks ago I went to an advance preview of the film 300 (knowing comic geek boys has advantages) with, among other, a man who had legally changed his name to Just A Name. He seemed completely normal.
And the biggest joke of all is that 99% of people I meet here tell me what a weird name I have...
For example, last week I met a frind of Scott's who is named Shoe. This is weird enough in itself, but even more bizarre when you factor in that I have already met another friend of Scott's who is called Boot. These two people do not know each other.
A few weeks ago I went to an advance preview of the film 300 (knowing comic geek boys has advantages) with, among other, a man who had legally changed his name to Just A Name. He seemed completely normal.
And the biggest joke of all is that 99% of people I meet here tell me what a weird name I have...
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Quote of the Week
Or technically of last week, in San Diego. While Scott taught people how to do clever things on computers, I partook in a little sight-seeing. One of the places I visited was Old Town - the first Western settlement in California - and overheard the following statement from a local man showing some tourists around
"It's called Old Town because it's an old town".
No sarcastic twinge, no further explanation. God bless America.
"It's called Old Town because it's an old town".
No sarcastic twinge, no further explanation. God bless America.
Adjustment
I wish I could say that the reason I haven't posted in the last few weeks is because I've been so terribly busy, but this would be a rather large lie. To tell the truth, I have mainly been wallowing in misery. There are a lot of things that frustrate me about life in Los Angeles, and there are a lot of ways in which I'm frustrated and ashamed at myself for not knowing how to do the simplest things here. I've travelled a lot, in far more "exotic" locales than Los Angeles, and always not only coped with, but positively enjoyed all the variances in daily life around the globe. It turns out that adjusting to living somewhere is a lot more emotionally draining than just travelling through.
Yesterday's outpouring of tears was caused by my inability to post a letter. Scott was busy, I was bored, so he asked if I could post his mail for him. This is something so ridiculously commonplace that I never even considered before the amount of knowledge one needs to carry out this simple act. My first problem came with trying to find a post office. Turns out that one goes to the UPS place, but I didn't know that. Then at the counter, I took part in the following conversation.
- Can I have some stamps to send this to England please?
- Sure, no problem. (girl takes letter and goes to frank it. pauses. returns.) Where's England?
- Um, Europe. (girl nods, and starts to look thorugh a printed list)
- No, sorry, it's not.
- Yes it is.
- No, it's not on my Europe list. (Girl passes over her book, which lists the countries of the world by region. I study it).
- Oh, it's here. United Kingdom.
- You didn't say that, you said England.
- Sorry.
And here I let the conversation end, not having the desire or energy to get involved in an argument with a stranger.
I spend a lot of time here feeling like a particularly ignorant and slow child, a burden on everyone around her. Yet at the same time, I feel ridiculously defensive. I've only just moved here! How am I supposed to learn how to do stuff if no-one takes the time to help me? It particularly annoys me that no-one here manages to say my name correctly. Fill-Eeeeee-Parrr is how I am to be known in this land. When I tried to correct someone and explain, no, that's not how you pronounce it, he became all defensive and asked me what I had against Fill-Eeee-Parrr. Nothing. I have nothing against it. I also have nothing against Susan. It's just that neither of them are my name, and there's something quietly soul-destroying about living somewhere where not only does no-one know your name, they really can't be bothered to learn it. Or even pretend to.
In positive news, Scott made me go to the chiropracter with him. I had been less than convinced by similar outings to Reiki masters and astrologers, and thought this would be more of the same. Lo and behold, it turns out that having your back "adjusted" really does take away a lot of pain. I guess sometimes being open to new experiences does pay off...
Yesterday's outpouring of tears was caused by my inability to post a letter. Scott was busy, I was bored, so he asked if I could post his mail for him. This is something so ridiculously commonplace that I never even considered before the amount of knowledge one needs to carry out this simple act. My first problem came with trying to find a post office. Turns out that one goes to the UPS place, but I didn't know that. Then at the counter, I took part in the following conversation.
- Can I have some stamps to send this to England please?
- Sure, no problem. (girl takes letter and goes to frank it. pauses. returns.) Where's England?
- Um, Europe. (girl nods, and starts to look thorugh a printed list)
- No, sorry, it's not.
- Yes it is.
- No, it's not on my Europe list. (Girl passes over her book, which lists the countries of the world by region. I study it).
- Oh, it's here. United Kingdom.
- You didn't say that, you said England.
- Sorry.
And here I let the conversation end, not having the desire or energy to get involved in an argument with a stranger.
I spend a lot of time here feeling like a particularly ignorant and slow child, a burden on everyone around her. Yet at the same time, I feel ridiculously defensive. I've only just moved here! How am I supposed to learn how to do stuff if no-one takes the time to help me? It particularly annoys me that no-one here manages to say my name correctly. Fill-Eeeeee-Parrr is how I am to be known in this land. When I tried to correct someone and explain, no, that's not how you pronounce it, he became all defensive and asked me what I had against Fill-Eeee-Parrr. Nothing. I have nothing against it. I also have nothing against Susan. It's just that neither of them are my name, and there's something quietly soul-destroying about living somewhere where not only does no-one know your name, they really can't be bothered to learn it. Or even pretend to.
In positive news, Scott made me go to the chiropracter with him. I had been less than convinced by similar outings to Reiki masters and astrologers, and thought this would be more of the same. Lo and behold, it turns out that having your back "adjusted" really does take away a lot of pain. I guess sometimes being open to new experiences does pay off...
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