Monday, August 1, 2011
So I kinda disappeared there last week, didn't I? Just more time for you to stare at my rockin blowout.
I wrote a short film last year, The Department of Signs and Magical Intervention. "Short" clocked in at a meaty 36 pages and while that's a mere haiku for me (to quote a writing professor: Melissa, can you challenge yourself to just write something simply? - it's just not gonna fly as a beginner's foray into filmmaking. Even though my dream is to shoot this sucker in Memphis and take it on the festival route, I decided to enter it into a contest where the winning scripts are produced for you, and right now, just having someone put my wet clothes into the drier makes life seem more manageable, so I'm down with turning the film over into capable, baby-less hands.
If I win.
In order to win, I had to cut about 15 pages, a process of brutal slash and burn that took about a week of hairpulling to do, on top of tending said babies, running the photo biz and occasionally brushing my teeth.
But the script has been submitted, and to celebrate, I flew across the country with a 5 year old, a 4 year old, a 3 year old and a 3 month old that screeches for my boob like a pterodactyl with a bullhorn strapped to its beak.
That's right. I'm officially on vacation which means Baby D had his inaugural flight. No meltdowns, just the happy, very loud screeching and of course, what flight would be complete without the inaugural baby boy diaper blowout? After squeezing myself into the toilet to change him, I looked down at my sweet little man who was grinned up at me from the toilet where he was propped, not seeming to care his lower half was covered in slimy poop. I cared, especially since I forgot to bring a change of clothes for the kiddo.
Thought I was past these rookie mistakes.
Anyhow, I have a week to recover. I'll be checking in periodically to share with you just how amazing life can feel with 20% humidity.