Ah Bugger

The vapid utterings of a neurotic mind.

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Location: DC, United States

I ain't too proud to bug.

Thursday, August 02, 2012

The process


How are ya? I'm good. Finally worked my way through the first draft of my pilot TV comedy script. (Well, actually I think it is the 4th or 5th, but those were completely different stories, so I am calling this draft 1 because it is the first version of this story). But yay! Seriously. It's so unfunny and I have tasked several capable and hilarious writers to aid in the punch up. But step one! Woo!

I have another script to write. I'm working on a spec script of The Middle. Tomorrow is the big writing day. We'll see how it goes. Did I tell you I only have a week to get my scripts up to par for submission as my thesis?

Oh, the thesis. The dreaded thesis. I am so bored of talking about it. I'm sure everyone else is even more tired of hearing about it. But who will I be without it hanging over my head? Will I just fade into oblivion like Marty McFly when George McFly gets sucker punched and the romantic liaison with Lorraine looks to be a no-go?

I think I need a camera on me while I write. You know, like the cameras they have in the zoo. I'm like a caged animal. I set the stage for myself. Notes, laptop, reference books all bedecking my dining room table while I pace anxiously nearby. Finally, I face the keyboard. Sweat dripping down the side of my face (I'm too poor for AC), I nervously peck the keyboard.


Now what!?! I stand, taking deep breaths. Can't quit yet, so I return to my seat and continue.


Exterior what? House? Town? Pawn shop? Crap. Is that a stain on my counter? Hold on. I'm going to wipe that down really quick. Don't want it to stain. Okay, I'm back.


That's it! The Armenian Pit Grill is in everyone one of my scripts. Let's start there. It's based on Bungalow Billiards, which we gently refer to as the Bunghole. Okay, good. We have a location.

The bar is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with. 

Great. Situation established! What's that kitty cat? You want to look out the window with me? Is a storm coming? Doesn't look like it. Let's check the front door. Hey, the mail is here. Maybe someone sent money.

Checking... Insurance bill. Magazine. Oh, my, she is seriously photoshopped on that cover. Ooh, a Target coupon book. Man, doesn't anyone write letters anymore? Yay! Netflix! Hey, it's the next disc in the "Dead Like Me" series. Maybe I will just watch one episode. It's well crafted. It will totally inspire my writing.

1 episode

2 episodes

3 episodes

4 episodes

Shoot. I didn't mean to watch all of those. But I guess it's best. This way I can send the disc back.

Back at my computer. Why did I think starting at the bar was a good idea.? I mean, who's there? What are they doing?



The bar is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with.




Screw it. That's just going to have to work for now. 

The bar coffee shop is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with.  prepping for their long day. 

What are dodgeball players doing getting coffee? Do they get coffee? My friend Jacques plays dodgeball, but he brings a little flask of fancy coffee. I mean, come on, this is DC. We are fancy people.  You know, maybe I should take a little nap. I bet I'll dream the perfect situation. 

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

My heart is breaking

Ah, being human is a treat, isn't it? We beat each other up, kill each other, or just torment one another to the point of no return. Why are we so cruel?

I was transcribing an interview with Nancy Pelosi who spoke about women needing to kick down doors and start demanding their rights. How is it possible that in 2012 women are still being paid less money for the same job as men? The fact that the women in the Senate actually voted against the Equal Pay Act is beyond mind boggling. Yet, this behavior is exactly why women aren't getting ahead. Men have a tendency to support one another in their boys club attitude, but women have been fighting for so long that it winds up being a personal battle and all other women be damned. This HAS to change. And I think it is, slowly. I think my generation, and the ones following it are getting used to women being in charge and there seems to be a shifting current in the pride women have for each other. (I hope this is not wishful thinking).

But what a joy to be a woman, eh? Men all over this country have appointed themselves guardians of our womanhood, our health? Huh? Why are men chiming in on circumstances they have no right to speak on, much less make policy on? My ex boyfriend spent an inordinate amount of time adjusting his bits, which honestly? Gross. But I did not make rules about it, because I don't have those bits. So why on earth would a man think he has any say in women's health? I think the only time a man can chime in about a woman's reproductive health is if she is pregnant with his child, or she has given him that right and she can no longer speak/act for herself. I don't want to get tangled up in the complications that arise from a pregnancy that the man wants to keep and the woman wants to end, or vice versa. 

During the whole promotion of medical rape, there were several women in office who were advocating mens health and this was met with a chuckle. Why? Why are men taken seriously when deeming themselves master of all things female, and women are laughed out of the room when acting on the same behalf for men? Every female knows that there is not a single man out there that understands women. Not a one! Some just pretend better than others. But face it, guys. We befuddle you. So keep your hands out of my medical choices.

Finally, on my apple box (get what I did there? I'm standing on my platform which often was an apple box, but I am typing into my Apple computer) address about human rights, let's look at the latest thing to piss a lot of people off. Dan Cathy and Chick-fil-A.

I read today that Mayor Bloomberg (NYC) thinks that the mayors of Boston, Chicago, and San Francisco are wrong in blocking Chick-fil-A from their cities. (By the way, DC mayor Gray has also chimed in, calling it "hate chicken"). Bloomberg says that "You really don’t want to ask political beliefs or religious beliefs before you issue a permit. That’s just not government’s job." Now, I agree to a point. Freedom of speech, capitalism, and all that. Yet when the person running the company who is applying for a permit blatantly airs his beliefs and they go against the basic tenets of human rights and more importantly, human decency, I think that it does become the government's job to protect its citizens. Mayor Gray's spokesman seems to be right on the money: “We will not support and don’t want them here, but if they are legally entitled to a permit, they are legally entitled to a permit,” Ribeiro said."

In doing some research for this enlightening article that you are currently taking in, I learned that Chick-fil-A stopped its "Eat Mor Chikin"campaign during the mad cow situation so as not to seem insensitive. In fact, Dan Cathy, the president and CEO of the chain claims that Chick fil-A's mission is to "To glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that is entrusted to us. To have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A". It's a Christian company, but to me it seems that by taking such a stand against homosexuality, they are completely snubbing their noses at the teachings of Jesus. The Bible says things like judge not, lest ye be judged and do unto others as you would have done to you and  thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. But let's forget the Bible for a second. What does David and Michael's romance have to do with you? (Unless you have a crush on one of them, then too bad for you). If they are happy, then let them be happy.

If you're concerned about pda's. Well, I'm always concerned about this. There is no need for anyone to be rubbing body parts near where I can see them, unless of course I am paying to see that, but that's a different circumstance altogether :). So boy on boy, girl on girl, girl on boy, boy on girl, I don't care! As long as they're both adults and consenting go have at it... behind walls... where I don't have to bear witness.

We've been through this, people! Seriously. Go watch "The Loving Story" and see that we've just traded who we are attacking.  Can't we just worry about our own problems and let others worry about their's? Stop making people feel so worthless that death becomes preferable to the unwarranted and unceasing torment from jackasses who misunderstand their religion.
The most shocking aspect to me is that it always seems to come from the people who really have no foot to stand on.

I'm going to be done here in a minute. I know I am hammering it in at this point, but I am so disappointed in us. We are a hair short of stoning people, for what? For loving? And people are proud of themselves for this?

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Still here. Still tired. Still broke.*

I used to enjoy talking to Rick. I had to lean in really close to hear what he said because he spoke so very quietly. He didn't smell all that great, which made leaning in less desirable, but boy, he sure knew a lot about a lot. Every now and then he'd get on a tangent about George Bush, and the CIA, and honestly, I did not know what to do with that. Nonetheless, I felt there was something to it. I think his dad was in the Navy and maybe he was, too. I don't know.

Rick was sick and Rick was homeless. He had a family somewhere. I knew this because his mom came once to try and bring him home. But he found his home. It was at my church, where he greeted me each time I came. One time I greeted him and he asked me who I was. It offended me. Can you believe that? I was offended that after so many years of talking with him, he didn't remember me. This happened one time and it offended me so much, I never sat and spent time talking to him again. Oh, I greeted him, and held the door open, but suddenly, I was blocked.

I usually feel like I'm a pretty good person. Not perfect. Not even great, but good. I may even take pride in it. That's kind of paradoxical, isn't it? Taking pride in my goodness. Right now I just feel like a jerk. A mean, inconsiderate, and cruel jerk.

He had a brain tumor and other assorted tumors, in addition to schizophrenia. Now perhaps I never saw his medical records, but I knew he struggled with his health and mental well-being. I know this. What snapped that made me cut him off? And the biggest irony, as I mentioned before, I only saw him at my church.

The church truly was his home. He was very careful to protect it. He would cover his hand so no one could see the code that lets you in the back door. He would patrol the property and kick out other people who tried to nestle in. He'd join us for coffee and cake on Sundays, and very respectfully excuse himself to go out and have a smoke. He and I used to sit on the sofa, drinking coffee and talking sports.

He used to walk around DC a lot. He made friends with a lot of people. He saved the best things the church gave to him to give to others who needed it more than he did. He left what had known and chose to follow his own path and I think that he lived life the way he wanted to, given his circumstances.

Rick died last week. He was in his late 50s. His family took him home to NC where his family, including his two children could memorialize him. They lost him a long time ago, but now they could finally rest, knowing he was not hurting anymore.

His death made me suddenly shine a huge spotlight on how I treat people. It's terrifying. I don't want to be so self-indulgent that I will remove you if you don't make me feel like I'm a good person. It was not his fault that he didn't recognize me. Who knows what was going on that day for him? Just like that guy who cuts me off and follows it up with the middle finger, I don't know his situation.

Today I was in Petsmart with Harms and I asked a lady about her service dog, and she got really upset. It made me feel awful. I didn't mean to offend, and don't know why she reacted that way. But that's the key here, really. I don't know what her circumstances are so I just smiled, told her to have a nice day, and hastily got out of her way.

I'm glad Rick won't suffer any more. I am thankful to him for reminding me that time is fleeting and that each moment is precious (sorry for the cliches). But most of all, that we can't gauge how people are going to react to us, so we just need to do our best to be as good and as happy as we can be, and hope that translates to those around us.

Rick, I am truly sorry for being such an arrogant jackass. I hope heaven is all it's cracked up to be. I sure hope I get to go and be greeted by you there.

* This was Rick's response anytime you'd ask how he was.