Feelin' the Pressure

I thought that I had a good chance at an internship for a video production company for the spring but they seem to have disappeared off the face of the earth so the search continues....

I've been keeping myself pretty busy this semester and to be honest, I feel like I'm cracking! I don't feel as confident in my ability to perform academically as I have in the past. I've been falling behind in classwork, getting C's on tests, feeling apathetic and plain tired most of the time. I think it has to do with the two long days I pull, or more importantly, the number of papers I've been writing. My poor printer is already out of ink and its only homecoming!

I'm nervous, but not scared yet. Like I said, I've been keeping myself busy.

I attended a screenwriters workshop a few weeks back  (Organization of Black Screenwriters) which I wished could have been more helpful to me. Once again, I gave up valuable sleep time to attend workshops that went on for a good chunk of the day and felt a bit unfulfilled, maybe because I got so turned around on day two when all the smaller specialized workshops were taking place. One thing I was able to gauge from the seminar though, was that my field is definately in writing. Granted I'm ok with the camerawork, a little nervous when it comes to editing, but the writing process is still something I enjoy.

It also made me think about what career path I want to take. I started to ponder the idea of becoming a television writer while writing film scripts on the side. A little ambitious, and I understand now that writing for television and film are very different processes but I'd like to know more about television writing, particularly 1 hour dramas, since the outline for dramas and comedies are very different.

What's more, I'm getting chewed out by my advanced scriptwriting professor because I made the mistake of having a really good idea and being a decent writer in her eyes. I'm not upset about it though, just the opposite actually. I appreciate her interest in my story idea, and the fact that she is so eager to tell others about the premise. It goes something like this:

In Zimbabwe, a  traditional housewife, Memory, seeks help from the village healer (priestess) when her son falls victim to a mysterious illness. However, when she is told that the secret to curing her son involves raping men, both her determination and faith are put to the ultimate test. Memory teams up with two other women, all seeking a cure to their problems, and all having a different reason to accept in this story that challenges the notion and nature of the power struggle between men and women. Inspired by true events.

Yeah, my scriptwriting professor is really excited. I have to write between 60 - 80 pages of this script and it requires quite a lot of research since I don't know much about Zimbabwe or their spiritual practices and she knows enough to realize that I don't. I'm currently at about 11 pages, which need to be heavily re-written so ... pray for me. I'm feeling the pressure.



written by Anept-het

No One Likes M. Night Shyamalan - video

Inspiration

Many people ask what inspires me to become a filmmaker. Normally, my answers were abstract: I love storytelling, I want to create something that I can put myself or my sister in, I want to add more color to the screen, I want to leave my mark (my "twisted" vision) on the world, etc, etc, I could go on. But this past summer I got new inspiration; to make sure the travesty of movies like "The Last Airbender" can stop happening. Though I am a black woman, and wish to see more of my kind on the screen, I feel as though no movement that fights for the advancement of their own group and no one else, will be a success. I was so disappointed as an American seeing the blatant whitewashing of a film defended in huge numbers for the sake of having "the most talented actors" when clearly this was not the case. Seeing people argue that because this is an American film, based on an American cartoon that it made more sense to cast white, as though this was a country made up purely of white people, as though we weren't one of the most ethnically diverse countries in the world. Even worse to have it perpetuated by a minority, a director of Indian descent.

In the end, this argument for white characters fell flat, as the movie in every other aspect, sucked! It sucked so badly that it was probably better off that the reputation of young Asian actors and actresses weren't tarnished in droves by being a part of it. As a result, the fact that many people have been arguing, and I've been afraid of, for a few years now has become nearly fact. Shyamalan's lost it. Whatever he once had, or whatever people believed he once had, is gone. He is a joke, and it makes me upset as an ethnic minority who wants to see other minority filmmakers succeed. The problem is, he messed with one of my favorite shows ever, so the care I would have had, had this most recent blow been from any other movie, is lessened significantly. I keep my fingers crossed that Paramount gets its act together and buys out whatever contract Shyamalan has so that he can't mess up anymore of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Airbender has become my new inspiration. I want to become a filmmaker so that I can make the change a more plausible reality. I want to make films that the "general moviegoing public" would enjoy with lead actors and actresses of all hues, so that one day the default white standard will be an outdated premise. Till then...

You had your chance Shyamalan, now move on before you make it even harder for yourself.... And us!

                                                   video  by college humor, check them out!

written by Anept-het

EYE OF THE BEHOLDER ...

“Beauty... when you look into a woman's eyes and see what is in her heart.”  ~Nate Dircks

What is beauty and how is it defined? Is it tangible or elusive? Is beauty truly in the eye of the beholder or in the heart and mind of its’ beheld?  Or, is it merely a construct created by a society that places value on an outward, and often unrealistic ideal, rather than an inward, and often complex reality? Perhaps it’s all of those things. My question is what makes a woman beautiful? What makes her attractive?

Choices: Zebra ... I do not own this picture; it is
the property of it's creator.

As a woman, as an actress, and as a brown-skinned girl this is a question I have struggled with for years, in part due to the fact that at an early age I had come to the subconscious conclusion that my self-worth was contingent upon my physical appearance. Silly as it may sound, I know that I am not alone.

The truth is that we live in a male dominated and heavily Eurocentric society whereby beauty is still defined in terms of White is right, and very little emphasis is placed one’s inner beauty and intellectual capacity. Though we as a society have progressed and are still making strides towards true acceptance, at least vocally anyway, the ideal of the classic/ traditional standard of beauty remains. We see it everywhere, everyday: In magazines, on billboards, commercials, music videos, television, and movies.

We are all different and beautiful in our own ways; the problem is that when you are constantly bombarded with images of what beauty should be, it’s hard to see beauty for what it is. Talking strictly in terms of physicality, beauty is still defined as having white, light, or fair skin complexion, light colored eyes and hair, a thin nose, and large breasts on a popsicle figure.  And with the obvious exceptions, the only time “ethnic/ exotic” features are considered desirable is when they are on something that looks white, i.e: curves (Marilyn Monroe), cornrows (Bo Derik), a backside (J.Lo) bronzed skin (every white woman with a tan), full lips (Angelina Jolie), etc. However, the very same features we’ve possessed since time immemorial become somehow less desirable on us, at least in the eyes of pop culture. We are all victims to the system, even the most confident among us.

I believe I live this example. I am certainly guilty of it, on more than one level, measuring my self-worth in terms of whether or not I fit into this unattainable ideal and initially writing off those who themselves did not. But as I got to know an individual, they would transform – almost literally.  “Attractive” people became less attractive, and “unattractive” people became more attractive simply because of who they were. I too began to see my own true beauty.

I have learned and I am still learning to accept those things about me that I cannot change and embrace everything else, including my “flaws” … I don’t fit any mold, except for the one God created specifically for me. My “flaws” make me beautiful, and my beauty is unique to only me. I am strong, compassionate, intelligent, and funny … For true beauty is the measure of the heart. Looks will come and go, they are as transient and inconsistent as the latest trend, and mean only as much as the weight you place on them.  

It is true that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”; it is also important to note that true beauty is more than skin deep.  It can be easy to forget this when you are a member of a society that places so much value on what you look like, as opposed to who you are. However, it is important that we not forget, that at the end of the day, who we are inside is and will always remain the true measure of beauty.


- Anubian

One Day At A Time

It's been a pretty rough couple weeks for me. Some days are easier than others, and at times I think I've finally gotten beyond the pain. It's funny how things hit you, one moment you're fine, the next you can't stop crying and you don't even know why or what triggered it. Yesterday was one of those moments for me. 


I constantly tell myself and others that I'm doing fine, I'm getting beyond it. And the truth is - I believe it. In the moment - it's true. Then yesterday happens, and I realize that I haven't gotten over it. I realize that I'm not Ok and I end up more upset at myself for still grieving something that I should be over by now. 


However, as difficult as this period in my life has been, it's taught me something about myself. Somethings I've always known, and something else I never did. I think the problem I've been having is that I've been mistaking my lack of tears for strength, and in turn misreading my own strength for being Ok. I am still grieving a great loss ... one that was six years in the making. And though my rational mind understands that I am still healing, and healing takes time - my emotional mind can't handle it and often tries to bury the pain, rather mask it in a veil of strength.


But in spite of it all - I know now more than ever that I am an incredibly strong person. I am under no uncertain terms a fighter. An optimist at heart. A romantic who still believes in happy endings. My spirituality and faith in what's right and true and destined 'to be' have kept me optimistic about what 'will be', even in the face of uncertainty. I often say " Let go, set it free. What's meant for me, will be".  I know that as difficult as this time is right now, it will get easier, it will get better. I just have to remember to be easier on myself, it's ok to cry, it's ok to grieve - just take it one day at a time.






-Anubian

Motions

I have a lot on my mind. I keep trying to push my troubles aside, but - I can’t. Sometimes are easier than others. Some days I’m stronger, and some days everything I’ve been trying to keep locked up inside finds its’ way to the surface.

Being strong gets tiring. I feel like I should cry – I want to, but I think I’ve exhausted my tear-ducts. I find myself staring off into space, my mind wandering in a million different directions, and the pain comes flooding back. And as quickly as it hits, I feel myself again burying it as far back into the recesses of my mind as I can.

I know I should let my emotions flow, but I’m so tired of hurting. I don’t even know why it still does … Maybe …  I keep telling myself that everything will get better, and truthfully – I know it will. I just wish I could … forget. Everything … I’m so tired of this hurt. I can’t stand the loneliness.

GOD, this hurts so bad and I don’t know how to make it better.

I’m terrified … that’s my truth. I’m terrified. There are so many people who put so much into me. I carry with me the weight of a dream I’ve dreamt all my life and the hopes, dreams, and expectations of those who love me. After twenty-five years I chose to completely uproot myself from everything I know to move across the country to pursue my destiny.

I feel so silly. I feel … stupid. I have so much to be thankful for. Health, love of family, and REAL friends – yet, I still feel so alone. Though, for a brief and fleeting moment in my life I wasn’t, even if I now know that it wasn’t real. It was a dream, an illusion … a cruel (though ‘unintentionally’ cruel) joke that I was the butt of, and everyone was in on it but me.

There is so much built up inside of me, so much I haven’t said … some I can’t and probably never will.  I just wish I could get beyond this. I wish I could erase the last six years, burn those chapters, rip those pages out of my life … I know I’m writing out of emotion, and maybe I don’t really mean it deep down, but … I feel used. And right now, I just want to move on – even if that means erasing the best chapter of my life.

GOD, please forgive me ………………

Car v. Camera

A few months ago, I told my mother that for a graduation present, I'd like it if everyone chipped in and got me a camera, so that I can start practicing on my own and get better at my camera work. A decent camera can be thousands of dollars though, and when I approached my mother with this idea she asked me a simple question that left me stumped: Would you rather have that or a car? I was speechless. I couldn't believe that the idea of having a car as a present hadn't even entered my mind. And which did I want more. After a few months of thinking it over, I Have come up with some pros and cons to each.

                                CAR

It's pretty and green!

Pros

Who wouldn't want a car! I honestly believe the main reason I don't drive is because I don't have one. It would be easier for me to get around and hopefully get jobs if I had a car, especially since I wouldn't have to worry about finding parking at school and dealing with permits blah blah blah. It's like cooking. My first three years of college, I didn't cook. Why? I had no kitchen. I had a communal kitchen right on my floor for two years but I didn't like being in there with other people. Now that I have my own kitchen with an oven, and a toaster oven, and stove stops that I'm comfortable with, I cook all the time. I'm coming up with new ideas for food. I'm experimenting. I believe if I had my own car, I'd drive it and I'd probably come to love driving it.

Cons

I'd have to prove to my parent's that I can drive before they give me a car. That means the anxiety of feeling like I'm being tested every time I get into the car. Also, with a car comes car expenses. Gas and tune-ups and repairs after a while. I'd also have to learn so much crap like how to check oil and washer fluid and cooling agents. I'd have to go through the, this is your engine schpeal. And truthfully, that kinda stuff is enough to make me say, screw a car. Also, I don't even know what kind of car I would like. Truthfully, I'd be happy with whatever I got but, if I got a big car would I ever feel comfortable in it? Not to mention, I'd actually have to learn how to drive places! Ugh! And when I get the car and learn all that stuff, I can guarantee that 70% or more of my driving will be running errands.

                                CAMERA

Sony PMW-EX1

Pros

No matter how many books I look at, I wont understand how to shoot well if I don't practice. By getting a camera after I graduate, I can continue to learn on my own and build up my skills at my own time and at my own pace. Also, there are so many project's I'd like to do after I graduate. I want to practice shots and slowly build up a reel and gain knowledge that will make finding a job easier, in addtion to my skills as a writer and actress. With a good quality camera, I can also be an asset to other people just starting out and I could offer my services (for a small fee). Such as amature actors and actresses who need a good quality audition tape and can pay or, for myself, make a video featuring people in my family, documenting their stories while I still can.

Cons

I wouldn't get a car. Also, along with the expense of the camera, I'd also need to buy other things like Final Cut Pro or Studio and a better laptop capable of holding files that size. (you know, since I wont have a tech center to edit on). Another problem is the camera itself. As I've matriculated through varios film classes, I've learned that to be a successful cinematograher, director, etc, purchasing your own camera is not a necessity as many industry professionals simply rent camera's, mics, and lighting equipment. Another issue is that I don't want to get stuck using an outdated camera and not knowing how to use others. 

I still don't know what I would rather have. While the cons for both items can be extensive, both sets can be overcome or overlooked with enough hard work. I don't have much time left to make a decision. This is gonna be a long senior year!

Posted by Anept-het

SISTAHOOD

I found myself watching a very interesting video on Youtube this evening. It was some behind the scenes footage of an Essence magazine shoot with Sanaa Lathan, Nia Long, and Gabrielle Union. Now anyone who knows me, knows that I am a huge fan of Sanaa Lathan (she’s really my sister, she just doesn’t know it yet!) and I feel that Nia Long is grossly underrated.  What struck me about this video wasn’t it’s line-up of actress’, though that is what initially caught my eye, rather it was something that was said.

Nia Long started off by stating that there is no competition between the girls. The thought was further cosigned by both Sanaa and Gabrielle, basically stating that though they are all actress’, they are friends at the end of the day and support one another. One lady’s success is, as Nia put it, a victory for them all.

It got me thinking … Why don’t we see, and hear, and practice more of this? Whatever happened to sistahood? As an actress (you’ll notice I don’t refer to myself as aspiring – someone’s got to start drinking my Kool-Aid sooner or later, I may as well be the first!), and especially as a minority actress, I am under no delusions as to how difficult the path ahead will be. There are few worthwhile roles for people of color, especially women, specifically African American women.

Even in my relatively short career I find myself constantly weeding through the same crap: The Bitch, The Best Friend, The Prostitute trying to get on the right path but can’t escape her cootch slinging ways, The Abusive Mother, The Crackhead, The Abusive Crackhead Mother, The Angry Black Chick, The “Sassy” Black Chick, The Angry, Sassy, Bitchy, Crackhead, Cootch-Slinging, Abusive Mother whose child is taken away by her White/ or Light Skinneded Best Friend. It may sound like I’m being funny, but what’s not funny is it’s the truth. These are the roles that those us on the lower echelons of this industry often find ourselves competing over. And with so few good roles available to African American women, it makes sense that when one comes along, competition can become fierce.  

The thing is, this isn’t isolated to the entertainment industry. This is especially true where it deals with men. I have met girls who will lie, cheat, steal, rip out your weave and cut out your eyes over some dude. Not a man, a DUDE. Now just like a good role is hard to come by, I think many of us would agree that a good broth’a all too often seems near impossible to find (For all the good men reading this – I’m not talking about you). The good news is, they are out there … somewhere …  so, I’ve heard!

The funny thing is, I started writing when I was sixteen years old, completely on a whim – actually more like a dare from my mother.  WARNING: ANECDOTE ALERT IN 3… 2… You see it was a Sunday; I was flipping through the stations and landed on BET. I recall watching it for a few seconds then shutting the television off in disgust. My mother sat at the table, probably weeding through the mountain of mail that became a staple on our Dining Room table when I turned to her and asked, “Mom, why do they call it Black Entertainment Television, when there’s never anything entertaining on it?” My mother looked at me and laughed, as she so often does, and replied “Well, it’s entertaining to someone, Ne-Ne Bean, but if you don’t like it, then maybe you should create your own television station, and your own programming for it.” The wheels began turning in my head. I looked at her and smiled, then made a b-line for the computer. “Fine then. I’ve already got a show in mind!”

Little did either of us know, but that off-handed comment by my mother would change my life entirely. Through my writing, I rekindled my love of entertainment, my passion for acting. Now, here I am nearly a decade later following a dream I’ve dreamt since I was four years old. And though being a screen/playwright was never my intention, as I started down this path I soon realized that this new found talent could become a necessity. My way in. For I possess at my fingertips the ability to create roles and characters for African American actors. To tell stories we’ve never seen or imagined ourselves in.

I know how hard it is to find a good role in this industry, but as women, as sista’s we need to band together. This is a mentality I’ve adopted, though I won’t lie and say that I’ve never fallen victim to the system. When a really good role comes along, it’s natural that you want it. But the truth is, as Nia put it … a win for one is win for us all.

I keep my girlfriends who are taking this journey with me close. They are my support, they understand what I’ve been through and the hardships that lay ahead. The truth is, just as in life – in this industry – we are all we have, and if we continue to look at one another as competition to be overcome or enemies to be defeated, then the sad truth is – we have already lost.

So, let’s try to bring back a little Sistahood … 

MOVIE IDEA ALERT: next Oscar nominated film will be, “Sistahood Of The Traveling Hair Piece”, coming to a Tyler Perry film near you!


- Anubian

Getting Nervous

So this is my first post and I was wondering, what I should write about? My sister has just started a major journey and I feel much less stable then I did coming out of high school. Back then, I knew I wanted to become an actress, I wanted to perform and sing and dance, but now nerves are catching up to me and I find myself relegating myself to work behind the scenes. There's nothing wrong with that of course, but even that has me nervous. 

Anept-het

As I count down the days until, the end of the week, the end of the month, the end of the semester, the end of the school year, the end of my college career (I'm praying it is!) people keep asking me, what exactly do you want to do with a degree in film in Washington DC? It's a good question, and I answer, "I would like to start off getting a job with a small production company if I could. Anything will do, I'd learn on the job". But the farther I get, the more I realize I don't know, and I wonder if I have the drive it takes to keep up with this fast paced industry. I keep feeling the longing to travel and have kids poking at me and I have to keep reminding myself, can't do that yet... and it makes me nervous. The film program at my school is SO broad, I don't know if I want to become a writer or a director, or a cinematographer, or a producer or what. I love to create stories, but am I capable of simply selling a script I spent years on and walk away? I feel like I'm too indecisive to become a director. Where do I go from here? I'm getting nervous...

Generally, my posts to this blog will focus on me as an aspiring filmmaker. What I've been learning and what I'm working on. What I do well and what I need to work on. Film related stuff. Also, random things that peek my interest, like whatever else I learn in this school till I finally get my diploma and say LATER BITCHEZ to these people. 


Posted by Anept-het

New Beginnings

Today marks the first official launch of the Anubis Angel Blog. Today also marks the one week anniversary of my move to Los Angeles. So, what do I think of it so far? Well, the weather is amazing; they say it never rains in Southern California, and I suppose that may be true. However, just because I'm not wet, doesn't mean I haven't been through the storm. In fact, I'm still in the eye of it, though it didn't start when I landed.

Nearly the last two months have been the most trying of my life so far. I honestly think I've cried more since turning twenty five than I have in the twenty four years that came before it. I have always prided myself on being a strong person, a good daughter, sister, and friend, but in the days and weeks leading up to my move I was faced with daily revelations about myself and the people I held most dear. Revelations that would question everything: even my own self worth, my reason for being.

The poems that proceeded this post were written in an attempt to express and let go of what I was feeling in the moment. But even I, the writerist that I am, can't numb the pain of rejection with mere words, nor can I pretend to be ok when my heart is aching, when I am overcome with fear and anxiety and the only shoulder I have is 3000 miles in the opposite direction. Words mean nothing without action, though they hold tremendous weight.

You can speak things into existence: success, failure, happiness, misery .... love. Something I though I had only to find out when I needed it most, that I never did. The fear at twenty five years old - that I never will. I allowed words to give me a sense of security I never had, and chose to ignore the lack of any action that came with them. I manipulate words for a living, they are powerful, they can give life and take life, but they mean nothing without action.

Anubian

I came to California not because I was trying to get away from something, nor did I come in search of anything in particular. I came here to succeed, and though I am under no delusions as to the the trials and tribulations that lay ahead, I understand that they are all apart of the journey. I had hoped to shared this path with the one I loved, but alas, life doesn't always work out as we had hoped. If I am meant to travel this road alone, I will.

Greatness awaits me, that much I know. Heartbreak is inevitable and failure is apart of life, but I have learned  a valuable lesson in these past few weeks. Tears can make you stronger. They've certainly made me stronger. My strength is not defined by how many hits I can take without flinching, but how hard I hit back. And trust, I will be doing a lot more hitting. There is a whole world out there waiting for me. They've been waiting since the announcement of my birth twenty five years ago; a proclamation that was heard all throughout the tri-state area. There is a reason I was placed on this Earth, there is a reason I'm still here, a little bruised but still standing - the time has come to fulfill my destiny. My journey to this place is personal, it is the next chapter of my story. This my fresh start. My new beginning. It is time to truly put words into action - pen to page, page to stage.

Moving On ....

I've come to a crossroads in my life ... Shit happens, life hurts, but you can let it consume you or learn from it and move on. I'm moving on ....

                       TWENTY FIVE

This photo does not belong to me. It is the sole property of its creator.

25 years have come to pass, my life is like this shattered glass.

So many pieces, I feel so broken. So many words I've left unspoken.

I give my all - time and again; but apparently I’m just the ‘FRIEND’.

I'm sick to death of all of it, I’m sick feeling used.

I’m sick of people not understanding that strong girls have feelings too.

I'm sick of being sick. I'm sick of being tired.

I'm sick and tired of the loneliness and worrying about tomorrow. 

Don’t shower me with compliments, I’ve heard them all before.

Don’t treat me like a piece of crap, then tell me I’m worth more.

Don’t tell me that you love me or allude to it in vein.

Don’t act as if we never happened, like shit is still the same.

25 years have come to pass, my life is like this shattered glass.

So many pieces, I feel so broken. So many words I’ve left unspoken.

I toss and turn, my heart is pounding, fighting back tears to keep from drowning.

I shut my eyes and I hold my breath, I even try to pray.

But my mind is wracked, my body numb, God make it go away …

I finally thought I’d found it, but what I couldn’t see

Is the dream that I was chasing, was never meant for me.

I was reaching for a star, I was searching for my place

I blinked for just a second and the Earth beneath gave way.

It wasn’t real, it never was, my heart is aching and all because

I needed something, I wanted more, I yearned for something I didn’t have before.

So fuck the crying, to hell with fear, I’m sick of drowning in my tears.

No more second, I come first, no more justifying - my own goddamn worth.

25 years have come to pass, my life is like this shattered glass.

So many pieces, I feel so broken. So many words remain unspoken.

ANGEL

Let me start off by saying that I am not a religious individual by any means, but I am deeply and profoundly spiritual. My spirituality is what drives me, and it is for that reason that I felt this little poem would be an appropriate way to start things off. It was born, like most of my work, out of emotion. These past few weeks have been particularly trying for me. It's funny the way life goes, how quickly things change, for better or for worse. It is in these times, usually when we at our lowest that we can also be at our best. Our true character shines through: Will you learn to swim? Or will you drown? Do you sit on the deck too afraid to jump back in? Or do you take a leap of faith ... and Swim. 

I am a swimmer, though I nearly forgot that. But even the strongest and most fearless among us forget who we are. But, that's ok, because weakness doesn't make you any less of a strong person; what it makes you is human. Or as I like to say "God's perfect imperfection" ... and now, my little poem ...

Divine: This photo does not belong to me. It is the sole property
of its' creator.

ANGEL

  

Don’t sell yourself short, you deserve much more

You’re a Brown-skinned Angel, in a world at war ….

For modesty sake, for shame you hide

Behind your strength, behind your pride.

And though you fight to mask the pain

To keep it all inside

Those tears burn salt rivers, no matter how you’ve tried.

I know it’s hard to see the light when you can’t open your eyes.

It’s hard to be forgiving when you’re weeding through the lies.

And though at times it’s hard

And there seems to be no end,

Just close your eyes and look within, for there you have a friend.

Seek comfort in this truth,

Your worth so much more.

You’re God’s precious Brown-skinned Angel,

And the world He gave is yours.


Posted by Anubian