My World: I Promise This Ends on a High Note

Amid a world divided, there is but one sentiment that unites humanity, one belief that connects people from around the world, one thought that even Republicans and Democrats agree upon. Yes, even Christians and atheists agree on this. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the sentiment that binds us all together: 2020 is a shitshow of dramatic proportions. This blog post will reflect that sentiment, reflect that rambling cacophonous maelstrom that I refer to as my mind, my thoughts. So here goes.

First things first.

What’s the aesthetic of the world of 2020? I’m not sure. But here are a couple images that come to mind about the world of 2020.

-The world is a worm-infested apple falling from the tree on top of a mountain, and the worms inside don’t know they’re about to hit the ground full force. They just keep blindly gorging themselves in a gluttonous ecstasy.

-The world is a one-legged wolf caught in another trap because he refused to learn his lesson. He’s chewing off his last leg, wondering if he’ll get through it, if he’ll live, or if he should just give up and go out with a whimper.

-The world is a narcissist practicing his smile in front of the mirror without flinching at the sobs of Lady Justice being gang-raped behind him. Maybe he doesn’t see it from the corner of his eye. But the way things are going, he’s probably just waiting for his turn to go again.

There’s nothing new under the sun. What else can I say that hasn’t already been said? Who’s reading this expecting me to say soul enlightening selfless things? If you are, I’m gonna do this little thing called subverting expectations. I’m sick of talking about the world, I want to talk about my world (don’t worry guys, it’ll still be relevant to 2020). That’s something you haven’t read about. There. I’ll say it. I’m selfish. And just like that, this blog post is now semi-confessional.

Fair warning, the word ‘shit’ in all it’s forms will be overused in the following paragraph.

I worked a shit (see?) job over the summer. Not that it’s actual shit, many people are content (or something?) working there, but to me it’s shit. Why? Because I’ve realized anything short of my dream job is going to be a shit job. So, I better succeed at what I want to do or I’m going to be cursed to live in misery. Will I succeed? That depends on my motivation, which nowadays isn’t very strong (not that it ever was, but I can’t seem to get out of bed these days). Here’s the thing. I couldn’t wait to be done with that shit job, couldn’t wait for the summer to be over so I could see my new friends and go back to school. But honestly? This semester is pretty shitty. I can’t wait for it to be over. So what have I got to look forward to? Another shitty semester, and another shitty summer after that with another shitty job? There’s no winning it seems. As I’m writing this, I wonder why I’m so extreme, why don’t I look at the positives? There’s plenty of them everywhere.

One good thing came out of the summer, and that was finishing my screenplay, it took four months. After being stuck in a rut with my novel that I’ve been chipping away at for two years, I decided to turn it into a screenplay. I felt I couldn’t write enough for it to be a novel, but now that I’m done the screenplay, it’s at LEAST fifty-something pages too long (it’s 193 pages). There’s no winning it seems.

I decided to convert the novel into a screenplay because of a few reasons. I grew up on films, it was always a big thing in our family. Movie nights on the weekends indoctrinated a love for cinema in me. I’ve noticed that ever since my first short stories in grade school, I always visualized the story as a film, then tried writing it cinematically. As a kid, I even played with my Lego as if it were a film. I would even replay the same action and watch it through slow motion, from different ‘camera angles’ (John Woo cuts his action films like that, but I hadn’t even seen any of those at that point. Odd, isn’t it).

Within the first year of writing my novel, I thought the scenes would look great in a movie. The main characters draw their guns, camera pans to the left, the victims put their hands in the air and ask “…what the fu-” Smash cut with the title card and opening credits. Probably the biggest thing that made me want to restart the novel as a screenplay was when I religiously researched filmmakers (it’s an ongoing process of self teaching). One of my favorites, the Almighty Tarantino, said he basically writes his scripts as novels first, then adapts them into a screenplay. So I figured I’d try it. BEFORE I tried that (getting a little nonlinear here) I wrote one of my favorite short stories which by some happy accident read like a Scorsese mafia epic, complete with his (cynical) voice-over style narration/summary and temperamental profanity laden individuals belonging to that certain Italian-American subculture. Yes, I’m a little obsessed with the Mafia.

Nowadays I’ve been looking for a human side to certain stories. Human is the word I use because I can’t think of any other way of describing it. Only two films have given me that feeling. Boogie Nights, and American Beauty. I’m not sure why, I’m trying to decipher that. No other film has made me feel that feeling, except those two. Is it the bittersweet optimism of the ending? Is it the fact that the characters want to escape their boring lives and attain their counter-cultural desire? Is it the yearning to be free?

That feeling is what I’ve been trying to meditate on, I want to write at least one story that nails that feeling. The brainstorms I have will be listed here:

-The end of an era.

-The feeling of reading texts for reminiscing, just to feel those feelings again (not necessarily romantic).

-Sitting in a café during a thunderstorm with quiet friends as the gut punch is delivered and you realize it’s the end of college, you’re about to part ways with everyone and you just are realizing it.

-The book you love is coming to an end and you don’t want it to, so you’re afraid to flip the page.

If anyone has any ideas for that, or any films or books that nail that feeling, please tell me.

Another idea I’ve been meditating on is a story similar to Taxi Driver (what a masterpiece, a must-watch). When this first quarantine/isolation thing happened I right away started thinking of somebody’s twisted psyche not being able to handle it and lashing out. Something dark, disturbing, isolated, lonely, hurting, and hating, just like Taxi Driver. But I don’t really want to write it about COVID. Even Paul Schrader, who wrote Taxi Driver, said if you have a personal problem you want to deal with, make a metaphor for it. Taxi Driver was a metaphor for his loneliness and depression. He said distance yourself from your personal story. As soon as I heard that I realized why I struggle so much writing nonfiction stories from my life. My life isn’t cinematic or interesting, (makes me wonder why I’m writing a blog post about it), I’d rather make a metaphor. That can be as cinematic as I want.

And here’s a sad and pitiful side of me, something 2020 has brought out of me. I find myself constantly daydreaming about winning the lottery. Why? Because the biggest thing I think I’d win with the lottery is freedom. Freedom from a boring average life, freedom from worries, risks, and freedom from obstacles. All the things I don’t want to deal with. I’d have freedom to go where I want, when I want. My friend Emily will end up who knows where for grad school (and who knows where after that), it’d be nice to hop on a plane whenever I want and visit her. Same with Noah. Call him up from across the country to see if he wants to see a bunch of films on the weekend, hop on a plane, and have a grand old time. Why is it sad and pitiful? Because it says I’d rather have something given to me instead of me going out there and grabbing it. Well, indulge me a little further, maybe you’ll find it entertaining at least.

If I’d win seventy million dollars, I’d do what everyone says they’d do and put a lot of it in the bank/investments and let it keep making money. I’d take a portion of it to help my friends (pay their tuition so they have less to worry about) and help my family. I’d still stay in school and slave through courses I don’t even want to take, the ones I have zero interest in but am forced to take in order to acquire a piece of paper by the end. Why? I guess to be educated and hang around with Noah some more. Then, during the summer, instead of working a shit job I hate, I’d spend on what I’m passionate about. A couple hundred thousand on making five or six quality short films with an actual cinematographer, with actual actors, in order to learn how to properly make films. Experience is key to learning filmmaking. Then, I’d take about two or three million dollars and produce my own debut film with my own amazing script I haven’t even written yet. Get it distributed by A24, get recognized, climb the ladder. Wouldn’t that be nice? Sure would.

Seeing as I haven’t even bought a single ticket (and probably won’t), I guess I’ll stick to filming my short films with Noah’s i-phone.

I also keep asking myself why I’m in university. All that talk of film, you’d think I’m more interested in filmmaking than writing novels.

Bingo.

You’re correct if you think that. I’m losing more and more interest in writing novels/short stories and gaining more interest in screenplay writing and filmmaking, (specifically directing, my dream job). Why don’t I take the time and money I’ve spent on courses I don’t even want to take AT ALL and save up the funds to buy a decent camera?

(I sit there staring at rocks from my lab kit in a haze of utter hatred, wondering what I’m doing with my life. I hate science, I didn’t come to university to be forced to take science, I came here to explore creativity. I’m told its to be well rounded. I don’t want to be “well rounded;” I want to be a sharp blade piercing through the field I’m interested in, everything else be damned. This whole year, I’m only in one creative writing course. Can you believe that? Sure, it’s my fault, I could’ve taken TWO creative writing courses this year instead of ONE. Why didn’t I? Because the screenwriting course isn’t offered this year, and right now that’s number one priority for me. If I can’t take it next year, I may just spontaneously combust, who knows. Next two on the priority list are the video production courses. So, I chose to get the science requirements out of the way this year in order to have breathing room later. My entire course selection boiled down to one question: do I want to suffocate now, or later? I chose to get the suffocation over with quick (ironic because suffocation is anything but quick). I won’t even touch upon the course schedule this year, in fear of dying from an aneurysm while typing this. Yes, it’s the way things are and I should accept it instead of complaining. Unfortunately for me that’s easier said than done. END OF RANT.)

Back to the whole saving up for a camera dream. Then I could at least make a modern day El Mariachi like Robert Rodriguez did. He made that for seven thousand dollars in 1992, which comes to about nineteen thousand dollars in Canadian nowadays. Look where he is now. I’ve already learned so much from lectures on YouTube or through Masterclass, that I feel like I could learn all I need for a lot less money. The only thing keeping me in the creative writing program at this point is it’s a more employable degree than a film degree (not that I really want to go to film school), and that it’ll still help me form meaningful stories.

To end on a high note, I’ve got several screenplay ideas I plan to write. I’ve even got the names of the titles.

–The Devil’s Mvsic, a horror script, a metaphor for the struggles of the Christian faith through the exploration of a Black Metal band and their Satanism (perfect inversion of Christianity).

–The Old Lie (from Wilfred Owen’s Dulce et Decorum Est) would be a black and white WW1 film exploring the mundane everyday suffering of soldiers in the trenches.

-Guns. Cars. Cocaine. Is an expansion of the short film I made. It would be a lower budget crime comedy about idiot criminals (since it’s simpler, realistic, it’s the next script I’m writing, and if I ever buy that lottery ticket and win that seventy million dollar prize, it’s the one I’ll produce first.)

–The Three Lutherans, a comedic retelling of Martin Luther’s friends, a cross between Monty Python’s The Holy Grail‘s non sequitur  style humor and Bud Spencer/Terence Hill films such as Watch Out We’re Mad.

To conclude, I’d like to tell you there is a light at the end of this dark tunnel we’re traversing. That light is an oncoming freight train barrelling towards us by the name of 2021, aka the sequel to 2020.

Oops, did I say I’d end on a high note?

I lied.