Fear and Loathing in New Jersey
Here an explanation for the events of this morning and afternoon.
I should start with last night. I'm sitting there at the computer, going through all my old stories, and not finding one I can successfully rewrite and turn in to the U ARTS Admissions. They were OK stories, but as I've said before, story writing does not come as easy to me as poetry or screenwriting does. I have a true knack for dialogue. It's quick, witty and actually fun to write. On the other hand, I find short story writing to be a tad monotonous. Let me just say while I have the chance, WHY is a program dealing specifically with writing for Film and TV NOT accepting screenplays as part of the writing portfolio????? That just seems dumb to me.
Anyway, I'm stressing out to the point of tears and I decide to sleep on it, hoping I will be more relaxed the next day and thus able to bang out something wickedly perfect for Admissions. As I am falling asleep, I pray to God for some inspiration. I know you may think that is ridiculous, but it has always worked for me. Well, be very fucking careful for what you wish for. I woke up this morning with the worst case of depression I've had in 7 years. It was awful. I hated life. I hated work. Most of all, I LOATHED my father. Pure loathing. I wanted to rip...his...face.....OFF! So he picks me up to take me to work and of course I feel and look like hell. I can only liken my hair to Scar's mane in The Lion King. The grimace perched upon my face resembled the Grinch. I truly embodied all that is Nick Nolte's mug shot.
So I get to work, and I realize I cannot stay there. I cannot stay there for one-second. I had to escape. I run out the front door, call my Dad and beg him to turn around and come get me. He complies and I go about setting up for the morning, which I figure is the least I can do being that I'm about to make a mad dash outta there, go home and hide under the covers for the rest of the day. When I finish setting up, I tell Dr. Mike (Dr. Raj and Erin are at some promotional thing) I have a family emergency and must leave. Mind you, I said this last week as well and missed one of the morning shifts. This is how depressed and horrible I have been lately. In the middle of telling him I must leave, I start crying uncontrollably. This, I feel is Karma for all the pretending-to-be-OK bullshit I've been pulling on for the last two years. I'm not OK and it is all coming to a head, right now, if front of Dr. Mike. I've been a total phony and this is my retribution. So he hugs me, and as I leave and am followed by our part time Russian Physical Therapy Aide, Gabrielle. She demands to know why I'm crying. I tell her part of it and she pets my head and leaves. It was actually quite a bizarre encounter and I'm not describing it properly at all.
So my Dad picks me up and I tell him everything. I tell him I want him to be happy but he can't pretend he doesn't have any responsibilities and blah blah blah. I tell him that I feel abandoned. You know what he says???? He says, "Well, when YOU were born, your mother ABANDONED ME..."
What???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What the fuck is that? Seriously.
I get home and go to sleep until my mother gets home. She takes me to the High School to get my transcripts sent out and the entire time I'm wondering, "Why am I even doing this, I don't even have the 5-7 page writing sample written yet!!!!!!!????"
Until now. As soon as I get home, as I am on the toilet peeing (GREAT PLACE FOR INSPIRATION), I get my idea. This whole day has been my answered prayer. I'm writing the story I know best, and that story is of my father. I've put out 3 pages already and I should be done by tonight. I just wish I didn't have to go through all this mess to get my story.
I now hate writing.
Love,
Kerry (Little, Roo)
I should start with last night. I'm sitting there at the computer, going through all my old stories, and not finding one I can successfully rewrite and turn in to the U ARTS Admissions. They were OK stories, but as I've said before, story writing does not come as easy to me as poetry or screenwriting does. I have a true knack for dialogue. It's quick, witty and actually fun to write. On the other hand, I find short story writing to be a tad monotonous. Let me just say while I have the chance, WHY is a program dealing specifically with writing for Film and TV NOT accepting screenplays as part of the writing portfolio????? That just seems dumb to me.
Anyway, I'm stressing out to the point of tears and I decide to sleep on it, hoping I will be more relaxed the next day and thus able to bang out something wickedly perfect for Admissions. As I am falling asleep, I pray to God for some inspiration. I know you may think that is ridiculous, but it has always worked for me. Well, be very fucking careful for what you wish for. I woke up this morning with the worst case of depression I've had in 7 years. It was awful. I hated life. I hated work. Most of all, I LOATHED my father. Pure loathing. I wanted to rip...his...face.....OFF! So he picks me up to take me to work and of course I feel and look like hell. I can only liken my hair to Scar's mane in The Lion King. The grimace perched upon my face resembled the Grinch. I truly embodied all that is Nick Nolte's mug shot.
So I get to work, and I realize I cannot stay there. I cannot stay there for one-second. I had to escape. I run out the front door, call my Dad and beg him to turn around and come get me. He complies and I go about setting up for the morning, which I figure is the least I can do being that I'm about to make a mad dash outta there, go home and hide under the covers for the rest of the day. When I finish setting up, I tell Dr. Mike (Dr. Raj and Erin are at some promotional thing) I have a family emergency and must leave. Mind you, I said this last week as well and missed one of the morning shifts. This is how depressed and horrible I have been lately. In the middle of telling him I must leave, I start crying uncontrollably. This, I feel is Karma for all the pretending-to-be-OK bullshit I've been pulling on for the last two years. I'm not OK and it is all coming to a head, right now, if front of Dr. Mike. I've been a total phony and this is my retribution. So he hugs me, and as I leave and am followed by our part time Russian Physical Therapy Aide, Gabrielle. She demands to know why I'm crying. I tell her part of it and she pets my head and leaves. It was actually quite a bizarre encounter and I'm not describing it properly at all.
So my Dad picks me up and I tell him everything. I tell him I want him to be happy but he can't pretend he doesn't have any responsibilities and blah blah blah. I tell him that I feel abandoned. You know what he says???? He says, "Well, when YOU were born, your mother ABANDONED ME..."
What???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What the fuck is that? Seriously.
I get home and go to sleep until my mother gets home. She takes me to the High School to get my transcripts sent out and the entire time I'm wondering, "Why am I even doing this, I don't even have the 5-7 page writing sample written yet!!!!!!!????"
Until now. As soon as I get home, as I am on the toilet peeing (GREAT PLACE FOR INSPIRATION), I get my idea. This whole day has been my answered prayer. I'm writing the story I know best, and that story is of my father. I've put out 3 pages already and I should be done by tonight. I just wish I didn't have to go through all this mess to get my story.
I now hate writing.
Love,
Kerry (Little, Roo)