Francesca’s knees are bruised, from bashing into the car door-steering wheel combo as the Jehovah’s Witness chased her to her father’s Honda, a stoic vehicle in the Ohio snow. The other from the Icelandic Vodka, two brands, his girlfriend supplied in happier times.
She wondered if she was technically a drunk if it was only vodka and only on designated new moons in certain time zones. Who was she kidding? She was a wreck. A train wreck, in a minor key.
“When memory is called to answer, it often answers back with deception.”
Whatever way ‘this’ is–the cacophony outside is astounding, only parallel to massive abyss of sadness swirling around in my head that can only be explained by the problem of emotional honesty in a world I am not made for.
So it’s back to branding conversations, let me sling my guns across my womanly hips so I can shoot from them aiming straight at my foot to tell you that you need me and the only reason I need you is because people like you take advantage of people like me (corporate types v creative engines) and here I am again, creating your vision and walking away, no severance pay. Well I am tired of this and I am tired of everything and I am a used up toy, once again, thanks to a certain vulnerability which, trust me, will never happen again.
I am a writer, filmmaker, producer. I tell real people’s stories, and am a master of verite-style, unscripted television.
I manage big crews and work with exceptionally talented people. I deliver the best possible product, on time and on budget. My organizational & communication skills as a Show Runner and Director combined with my creative on-my-feet scriptwriting responses make me unique among the many.
I have over 18 years of experience in film and television, in a myriad of genres and formats.
Other experience: Grantwriter, columnist, editor.
Conflict Resolution Facilitator for the State of Hawaii
The Apprentice, seasons 1-5 producer: 19 million viewers, Episode 1.
The Amazing Race, Episode 311 wins first Emmy for that series.
Series: The Colony, Model Latina, Bar Rescue, American Hoggers, Ice Cold Gold, Fixing the Body, The Restaurant, The Amazing Race and five seasons of The Apprentice.
On-set assistant for Harrison Ford & Robert DeNiro.
How does one keep up? I’ll push away my silver tears from future dreams and get on with The robotic hunt. My darkness bleeds for that master of mayhem Who exuded Songs of passion only to Leave me for a picket fence.
All these devised interfaces for me to write what I know for the immutable time capsule, the diaries of not a mad woman despite the claims by others who shall remain faceless at this point in time as this is just a platform trial and entryway error momentum: 101 cards, starting today.
I still think about what that icon meant when he said he hated progressives on both sides. I ponder such things. I need some sort of absolution.
going with counter-intuitive as lesson for today
card 101: See? I am not an asshole? Love letters 4 days away.
I used to be a happy girl, there are pictures of a smiling face and all the hope the world could offer. I used to believe that I could attain all those things and be happy. I used to think I could accomplish almost anything and then life frittered away into a series of just how at the mercy of other people we really are when it comes to our most basic survival.
And so that is how it ends? Who know? I don’t really even care. I have been beaten down on all fronts so many times that you have to ask yourself, does that omniscient force we’d like to rely on but who seems more amorphous than ever, really want me here? I don’t want me here. It’s easier not to feel anything because any time I do, it just amounts to disappointment.
Finding a job in something you are actually highly qualified to do and not being able to find a job to pay your bills to live — after months and months going on a year — is something I don’t even care about anymore. I am so sick of it, so sick of life, so sick of why do I need to be here? I have no family like the rest of you, I am adopted, know not my bloodline, was given up, forgotten, why must anyone now tell me they need or want me around? Without kids, it simply doesn’t matter.
This is honestly how I feel, right now, tears in my eyes I won’t let fall, because I was doing better as a numb shell of my former self. Now I can go back to sending out resumes that will never get call-backs.