zombies and self-deprecation

I have been writing a 10 minute short film script about two people who fall in love in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Think “Before Sunrise” but with zombies.

I am writing the “important” dialogue now, the parts that are supposed to grab you... the quotable parts. The philosophy and theme. But I find myself too stupid and disorganized to do this. I think every time I write I try to summarize what I think about everything, ever. The absolute truth according to me. But it's impossible, more impossible in a movie, even more in a 10 minute short. I wonder if every writer goes through the same process.

Right now I'm at the part where I don't give a fuck anymore and I write a joke about Jesus and a blogpost about my nightmare script.

I kid I kid, I actually really like this project. But I find myself being stressed out, the way I hadn't been since I was in college (which, hey, dude, wasn't that long ago) and I figured out that it's the only way I can actually do things and push myself. I drank mate today and I was able to work for a couple of hours. If I could only do this every day. I guess what I lack is not intelligence but lots and lots of drive. And maybe prescription drugs.


I'm sorry I don't write more often. I don't know how I did it in Paris every day. I am sorry for myself I don't write more often. With practice and routine comes truly great stuff, which I'm not producing right now. Nothing I think is interesting. Maybe I'm just bored with myself.

Maybe November is just really hard on me. You know, because of IT.

But I did get my Italian citizenship this month, which is cause for celebration. I am going to Paris soon. I am starting yet another new life and I'm super excited. I need to fill myself with new people. And hear new things, even if I don;t create anything new or like, give anything back. I don't think I will ever be one of those people. I don't think I can ever be recognized for something unique or new. But sometimes I surprise myself, only myself. I've retrograded into that, but it's okay. I can bullshit it well this time. Some people seem to believe that only because I have traveled and studied in fancy places that I know what I'm talking about. Tip: I don't.

Ssssssseeeellllllf deprecation!!! No, but really. I feel fine about my role as a listener. I just hope that's enough. And now, for some light bed side reading: Derrida. See? I can be an intellectual!


something something on the bus

Today I had a crazy day. I woke up at 6 (lies, I put on my alarm at 6 and snoozed it until 7:10, then hurried the fuck out of my apartment). I got to work juuuuuust in the nick of time at 7:45 and waited for my students who are always late. Only one showed up. Like half an hour late. Then, I had two more classes back to back. After, I ran home, ate, and took a bus to Colonia del Sacramento.

via http://diegorj.tumblr.com/

There, after a three-hour trip, I gave another class. Now on the way back, squeezed next to a burly man on the bus, I'm on facebook instead of writing my short film (another story for another time). But, before I got on the bus, I went to a food cart to eat a hamburger and these two young guys were there. I was sitting there, eating, and one of them “whispered” to the other: “she's beautiful”. I dont know if they were a little deaf or what but I could totally hear what they were saying. It was kind of adorable, so I stuck around for a little longer. When the "whisperer" ordered his food, the other one said “and if you can include her, it would be great too”. He whispered that too, but I heard it.

I thought it was nice because they weren't saying gross shit about me, and I miss that. Here in Uruguay, all men say the grossest shit to you down the street, and even if it's not gross, they say it to your face, they invade your space. If you say something back, you're a slut, if you say something MEAN back, you're a bitch. Its like, fucker, you invaded my personal me time FIRST, I get to say whatever the fuck I want! But these guys were just saying that I was beautiful. It was refreshing, they didn't even try to talk to me (which is a smart move, cause they would have gotten shot the fuck down).

What the fuck is it with men and that behavior in this country? What in my face makes you think you can talk to me? This is why I've resorted to big ass headphones and sunglasses. I can still tell that they say shit to me, but I can ignore it safely. But I have a problem. I just cannot ignore it when they know i've heard them. I just have to say something back. Ill even call them a fag, which is the first thing that comes to mind, even though it's awful, because, poor fags, what they ever do to me?


If I ever forget my headphones or ipod or make eye-contact and I get cat-called (it should have another name, it's so gross), I will call their mother a whore. That's just the way it goes. You fuck with me, I rape you in the ass with a sharp stick. God forbid they touch me, because I will break their hand. Or at least twist their arm, like, a lot. It's happened before. And then I get called a bitch or crazy, by other women even. But whatthefuck, what they are doing is a violent act, even if they just use their words. It makes me SO ANGRY, they are violating my identity as a woman, and as a person.

It's like they dont believe I am real, they think they can just say whatever to me. What happens after, when my self esteem is shot, when I feel like a piece of meat that people just want to stick their penises in? When I cry myself to sleep, or just feel shitty for a couple of days? No man, if I say something back, the anger just floats away, and I get to resume a conversation with my friends or go about my day like nothing ever happened, knowing that that man will probably think twice before saying something gross to a girl he has no authority over.

Or maybe I have anger issues, one of the two.  



no sleep till colonia del sacramento

I can't sleep. Again. I noticed, however, that this is because I like a girl. I like several girls. I like all girls! Again! And thus, I can't sleep; I go through different scenarios in my mind, playing out different outcomes to my awkward phrases, what I could have done better, etc. It's all very new and exciting. But I can't sleep. So, there's a correlation between me liking girls and me not sleeping. 

What.fucking.ever. At least I think about something other than how shit my life is because I'm so broke. Now I think about how shit my life is cause I'm so alone.

Maybe it's cause I keep doing this.

So no sleeping is a blessing. Lots has happened in my life since I last wrote. I have more friends now, different friends, international friends. People who are interesting. And do lots of drugs. I've been a bad girl. In the best most delicious kind of ways, and I just want to keep getting yummier and yummier. I also found out that the girlwhoshallnotbenamed was, in fact, seeing someone else and I KNEW IT MOTHERFUCKERS I KNEW IT. I actually feel better about myself, it doesn't mean it's anything I ever did, it's just that she is unreliable and met someone else. End of fucking story. Fucking finally

Although, with summer very fast approaching, I do miss a hot body on top of my hotter one, but we'll see what we find eh?

Today it's 26 degrees (80 F) out and I see people without their shirts on, which makes me infinitely happy. Other things that make me happy: my mother's apple crisp with vanilla ice-cream, wearing skirts, smoking weed, girls with long hair, buying cheap nail polish. Things that make me unhappy: my perpetual state of motherfuckingbrokeness, being away from my friends, forgetting things, like my headphones in this exact minute. That's a pretty short list if you ask me, so I'm alright.


I've always been afraid to do many drugs or drink too much, but I think that shit is actually making everything better. Yay for drugs!

Right now im on a bus going to work like 200 kilometers away from home. I go there and go back home every tuesday and thursday for the next two weeks. It's not great money but I dont have anything else to do. However, I made the mistake of taking the non-direct bus and this motherfucker has been stopping every time, letting people in an out. The seat next to me has seen a parade of mothers with babies, older smelly people, and, as of right now, a young girl who is very loud but seems nice. She looks about 15 and has a ridiculous interior accent.

Have you guys seen Pretty Little Liars? Because it's terrible but I watch it every week. 

When I travel by bus the same feeling overcomes me once and once again. I see a post, or a piece of garbage by the road, an individual electrical cable, and I think, fuck, has anyone else ever in your life ever noticed you? Probably not, I think, so then that makes me the only person ever who has ever noticed this thing, sitting there. A great big pressure begins in my body and I feel extremely big and extremely small at the same time. Sometimes when I close my eyes at night I feel the same pressure, but I am also floating. The darkness inside my head feels intermittently huge and tiny, my body, the same. I used to feel that a lot more when I was a kid. I hated the feeling and now I miss it. It was like being naturally high, questioning your own size, the universe, the darkness. So, I'm glad I can't sleep and question my own smallness.

I can't fucking believe I forgot my earphones.