Awkwardly Social

If you watched the Obvious Big Awards Show all the way through to the credits you saw my name. Good for you, kids who watch through to the credits, good for you.  This is the first time I’ve worked on that show while also working in a big office with a lot of people who watch that show and watch the credits to see if they know anyone else who worked on the show.  So I got some text messages and then puzzled looks in the office.  “How exactly did you have time to do that?”  I exactly don’t sleep more than 3 hours a night and weekends are not my own.  That’s how.  So glad it’s over.

Also, I didn’t watch the show.  Not one frame.  Except for the frames I slaved over.  I saw those frames a lot, but the frames that were broadcast in between those frames, I didn’t see.  That’s a first for me.  Lately I’ve been acting too cool for school, like, I’ll wear colored tights, knee high boots, my hair in pig tails, vintage jean jackets, Ray Bans and an attitude that says don’t fuck with me, and it’s carried over into my television watching.  Basically, I’m sort of acting like a hipster.  It’s a total chore and I’m very bored with it.  Sometimes it’s no fun to hate everything.  Anyway, if a show is in prime time, I don’t watch it.  I make exceptions only for Grey’s Anatomy and baseball.  I don’t even know what I’m talking about right now! That’s how hipster I am!  Ironic!

So between moving, going to Vegas with my mom and sister, and working two jobs one of which I recently tried to compare to Shakespeare (I couldn’t actually figure out the comparison, I just muttered something about sisters and a plot to dethrone the king, and everyone thought I was on drugs, that’s how tired I am), I’ve hardly seen Seth, much less had time to get myself knocked up.  So, no baby, which is a shame because I have a lot of eye rolling to do about the joy of motherhood that’s going to have to wait another month, at least.  I have no idea how this whole getting pregnant thing actually works.  I know in theory you’re supposed to have a lot of sex and it’s supposed to be at a certain time of the month, but now that I’m actually trying to get pregnant I feel like that’s very vague.

Ok, back to Shakespeare.

I went to a panel last night called “International Co-Financing for the Independent Film,” and if that title doesn’t put you to sleep try listening to seven lawyers talking about the ins and outs of tax benefits and soft money in countries like Australia, Canada and Ireland. The Irish guy at least had the decency to be young, cute and speak with an Irish accent. Fuck me, being an independent producer can really be dull. When do I get the cute shoes and first class flights?

I guess I should back up a little. Did you know that I’m a producer? I am. People who knew me in film school are laughing right now. I would cry when people asked me to produce their films and have a pre-emptive mental break down. Now though? Now, I’m a producer. It’s funny how a couple of years of perspective and a solid diet of working for other people can really make one want to strike out on their own.

Last night while Tara and I were rolling our eyes and karate chopping lawyers in our heads to keep ourselves awake, we were twice accosted by 2012 references. I loved the moment when we both turned and looked at each other wide eyed and freaked out and then couldn’t stop giggling. That is what this is all about for me, I love her work, she enjoys mine, and we both have an honest fear of ancient Mayan predictions.

Tara said, “Well, the earth will still be here, but you probably won’t.”

I said, “And you will?”

Tara responded, “Oh yeah, I fully intend to survive the apocalypse.”

I said, “Um, I’m the leader of the resistance against the machines, so you better hope I survive.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

So you can see how Tara and I are going to take this town by storm. Her - armed with personal style, writing talent and good hair. Me - with geek references and the free calculator they handed out as SWAG.