For over a year now, people have been asking me what I'm going to do if I don't get into film school. For over a year I've been not laughing with them when I tell them the most appropriate response to utter rejection is to become an alcoholic.
I've been forging my own path for so long that something as socially respectable as grad school almost feels like a short cut, a cop-out. At this point, it's down to Columbia University, the University of Southern California or the University of New Orleans.
My mother, a New Yorker herself, has been pushing for NY naturally, adamantly against my moving to New Orleans in this, the city's unstable, dangerous time. There's a murder a day there. A childhood friend who lives there currently has a bad case of swine flu. She keeps jesting that she survived the wrong thing.
I'll go anywhere. I'm not afraid. I prefer traveling to all this desk sitting, as much as I love it. When I was six, I won my first essay contest with the theme "Sunday School Is..." and have been writing ever since. That was almost thirty years ago. Before HitRecord's big Sundance promotion, I spent my spare moments trying to reinvent the wandering drunk as my alternative lifestyle. Now I hit record.
(In short, like attention spans. For more banal details on me and more interesting ones on others, see the comments section in goodgirlindie's "Introduce Yourself!" collab. Cheers.)
Created: Mar 08, 2010Document Media