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These writing bits and scraps that I've compiled before, during and after writing my thesis screenplay need to be explored.
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Remember that any similarity to any real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Fauxblog?
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This last week has been a jumble.
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I've been all over whoville working various events, in people's homes, in galleries, in department stores and in office parties. Whoville always has surprises for me in these pockets of town where intimate and public gatherings occur, people coming together for many reasons. Each situation truly is unique and I adjust my character accordingly. I don't know how actors do it, thus my great deal of respect for them (and not just because my sister is one).
One night in a gallery hosting a dinner event for the very posh elite of whoville for a good cause. Food and service is donated so that all money paid to attend the event goes directly to the charity. Yet...because it's the very posh elite there's a tension in the room for the staff because everything must be perfect (of course I feel that way for every event, but for some reason the wealthier the person the more anxiety is generated). I can't explain the atmosphere, but it is different. Why? I don't know. Please offer any explanations of your own. There is also the ridiculousness of the food presentation and content. It's hideous to serve foie gras and venison. I hate it. That is not too strong an emotion, I assure you. At least I come home to my safe veg*n home. Ahhh.
Last night I stood in my caterwaiter garb with a glass of wine in hand along with my fellow workers and toasted with the host of the party. He insisted that we share a drink with him and mark the private party that was about to begin. He was a very warm person and extremely kind. His guests, for the most part, were also casual and friendly with all of us. How nice it is to feel included and less like an indentured servent.
The next morning in another area of whoville I witnessed the love and friendship of a family simply having a brunch together. Honestly, I'm not sure if there was an event at all. It seemed mostly centred around the children, but in a very positive interactive way. The children were polite, nice and unspoilt in any way. The love between parents and children was so evident and everyone's behaviour reflected that love.
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Early morning midweek a brilliant red cardinal in the backyard picking through our dried out raspberry bushes. From the kitchen window I watch him. It's perhaps the most beautiful thing I see that day. The cardinal's partner is also with him. The two flutter around the bushes, on the fence and into the neighbouring fruit tree. I move outside to watch and hardly notice the zero temperature weather even though I'm still in pjs.
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I return from yoga to get ready for another shift only to discover that my youngest cat is playing with a mouse! My instinct is to find big sis' and bring her to the rescue. She tells me Prima has had the mouse since I left for yoga! Ah! It's a baby mouse, so tiny and fuzzy. Prima doesn't seem to have used her claws. I pull Prima away and the mouse stops to catch his/her breath. Sis places a napkin over baby mouse and gently scoops him/her up. We take her/him outside, open the napkin and look for any visible wounds. We both have a moment, wondering if we should keep the mouse as a pet and then snap back to reality. As if nothing else had happened, little mouse starts shuffling around and burrows about in the fall leaves doing his mousey things.
Later that hour...I respond to a kafuffle upstairs at sis's place. She's out shopping and I suspect that Rupert (see below) is up to his old tricks (or new tricks) terrorizing Ruggles. I march up the stairs and there's Ruggles with a tail hanging from his mouth. The battle is over and won, Ruggles victorious. When sis returns home we find the dead mouse on the carpet and oh-so-gingerly take him to the back yard to return to the earth.
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D. has built me a beautiful desk. Swoon. It moved out of the workshop and into the house this week. It's a dream come true for me. It's a space of my own where I can put all my books and notes and spread out a little while I write.
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I am completely moved by a friend's blog. Her honesty and ability to eloquently write about her emotions.
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Trial run of one component of christmas eve dinner. Thanks to Retorte (blog) for her phyllo advice.
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Peace.
2 comments:
Your blogging brings me back to our writing workshops. Your voice and tone is still what I remember from some of the short stories I recall critiquing. I enjoyed this post a lot. You always had such honest, poignant prose and I was reminded of that while reading today. Thanks.
PS. I've been to Red Jane and introduced myself. I can see why you're friends.
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