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 ………………