A Lesson in Property and Values

EXT. LARGE BACKYARD, DUSK, FLASHBACK

It is a tropical themed tween birthday party and the Beach Boys' Kokomo is dreadfully looping from a boom box in a distance. Prepubescent girls are gathered around the music dressed in oversized New Kids on The Block shirts and neon scrunchies. They are making up dance moves as Mar, 10, is dressed impeccably in a sundress and slumped next to Mom. Mar sighs.

MOM

Baby, you should go play with them.

MAR

They aren't playing.

Mom looks.

MOM

Ok...so go dance with them, looks like fun!

MAR

Nah. I don't really have any professional training.

MOM

(laughs)

Well neither do they.

MAR

(matter-of-factly)

No, those kids are probably twelve or thirteen and if they've been training since they were five then...(beat) that's about seven years! They could be training for seven years already!

Mom laughs.

MOM

I see you've thought about this thoroughly. See the kid in the rainbow bright t shirt?

They both look. Rainbow Bright kid -MIMI, 11- is at the butt end of the conga line.

MOM

(cont'd)

That's the birthday girl, she's eleven. I'm sure she hasn't had seven years of dance training. She takes swimming lessons.

Mar looks furtively studying the group at the corner of her eye. She notices a tree house beyond them and for a moment her eyes sparkle. An older kid catches her glance and whispers to Mimi. Mar growls.

MAR

(mortified)

Mom! Why didn't you put me in ballet or hula when I was five?!

Mar has struck a nerve.

MOM

Oh for pete's sake! Why am I having to force you to play with other children? This is a child's birthday party! If you don't want to play then sit there, bored but behaved. Don't start questioning my parenting decisions-

MAR

(interrupts)

I thought you said she was eleven?

MOM

What?

MAR

(affronted)

I'm only ten. If she's eleven and this is a (mockingly)child's birthday party, then what does that make me? A baby? You think I'm a baby?

Mom is ruffled, casting a stern look at Mar before joining the grown ups.

MAR

(mumbles)

Swimming lessons? It takes all of twenty minutes to learn how to swim, what a waste of money. (looks at her mom) You guys didn't teach me anything!

OS MIMI

What do you want to learn?

Mimi now stands inches away from Mar overhearing the last part of her rant.

MAR

What?

MIMI

What-do-you-want-to-learn?

Mar is unable to respond but feels like she must.

MAR

How to write cursive without my hand cramping up, how to get on level 6 of Super Mario Brothers, how to french kiss -most things that don't require lessons.

MIMI

(awkwardly)

Um...okay. Anyway, my mom told me to come get you. So... you want to learn how to hula?

MAR

Not really. Can I check out your treehouse though?

MIMI

That old thing? (laughs) I guess, if you want.

MAR

What is that, like almost a hundred square feet?

MIMI

I guess...

They make their way into the distance.

*****

I always wanted a tree house. I always envisioned going through life with a husband, kids, puppy -and a cozy little tree house in the backyard. The tree house was a symbol of a simple life. I didn't have ANY idea a simple tree house would entail cost of materials, labor, design and most importantly owning property to build it on. It's such a simple dream -tea parties with my daughter and playing pirate's captive with my son - with such an intricate protocol. Where's my house? Where's my wood? Heck, where's my zoning license? Dreaming something simple isn't simple or free.

The kids are starting to grow up and they still don't have the things I dreamed for them and it breaks my heart. I don't know when it'll happen and I'm sure in retrospect they probably won't care about the tree house, or puppy or painted room, but I would. I'd know what was missing and in what way I might have been lacking.

Its enough to motivate me further to write and write well. Writing isn't just a 'talent' it can be a means to an end. Though when I'm writing I try to refrain from thinking about it in that way, so as not to allow delusions of Rocafella money get in the way of my love for story telling...but making this writing thing work is the only thing keeping me away from the next meticulously lined up desk job.

God, Family, Friends, Tree House and then Oscar.

Current Statistics

Guess What? I'm actually gonna work today...*mumbles* after I finish watching season three of Lost. So let me leave you, my six sexy followers, with some current statistics:

Projects in Development Stages:(6) Truth in Sephia, Tokyo Genesis, Fresh off the Boat, The Messenger, Angeles City and Matchbox

Projects in Editing Stages: (1) Old Mike, New Christine

Projects Finalized: (2) Short Life of a Beard and Marmito San

Projects Optioned: (0) *boooo*

I decided that Short Life kinda sucks so I'm probably going to rewrite it when I find the inspiration to do so. Marmito San has been entered in three competitions, Nicholl Fellowships (http://www.oscars.org/awards/nicholl/apply.html), Slamdance (http://www.slamdance.com/writing/index.html) and Zoetrope (http://www.zoetrope.com/contests/).

Most of my work is registered in the Writer's Guild of America, West. Which doesn't mean much except that I can comfort myself silently when some movie comes out with the same concepts as my screenplays. I can tell myself I thought about it first and cry myself to sleep.

K, it must be time to work...or something.

ps. Sayid never wears a normal shirt on Lost does he? He's always in a halter top.

Avoiding The End

The following are the things I did today instead of finishing up my current project:

-bathed a child.

-watched Toy Story 1 AND Toy Story 2.

-blogged about how i was told that I'd pretty much be an obscure writer so I should think about a back up plan.

-made a fan page on facebook for my friend's cakes.

-thought about the many variations of pork i could eat RIGHT NOW (carnitas quesadilla, BBQ pork ribs, a cuban sandwich...etc.)

-ate a cold plate of beef stroganoff while thinking that if i were working then i wouldn't be overeating.

-attempted to work out.

-^FAILED.

-watched a five month old boy attempt to roll from his back to his tummy...for twenty minutes. He succeeded by the way.

-tried on my lilac bridesmaid dress.

-looked up new big words.

-blogged again...

When I write I loosely map out scenes and dialogue, the end and beginning of acts, plot points, opening scene, closing scene, etc. My latest project based on the transexual tragedy that became of Mike Penner is reaching its end... and this is the point in which I take a break to let things marinate. I'll open the file everyday and look at it, spell check it, edit it, but I've become so attached to this project that I'm sad that it's ending...

*wipes a tear*

Is there more stroganoff?

'Fall Back On' vs. 'Free-fall On'

INT. KITCHEN, EVENING, 2002

MOM, 45, sits at the table with Mar, now 18 -going through piles of pamphlets and handbooks.

MOM

Did you pick your classes yet?

MAR

(clearly ecstatic)

Yep! English 101, Theatre Practicum, History of Art A-

MOM

(skeptical)

And this is all towards your major of...?

MAR

(caught off guard)

Oh...I'm not really sure yet. I don't really have to declare a major until, like, the second year or something, so I'm good.

MOM

Oh...so you're good? Just because you don't have to declare a major in two years doesn't mean you shouldn't. Come on, didn't you always want to be a doctor?

MAR

Yeah when I was like, three though. If i remember correctly I also wanted to be Shee- ra and marry He-man. That was a nice try though, mom. (she grins)

MOM

(exasperated)

Well what are you going to do with your life? This is the time to know!

MAR

What?! I thought this was the time to figure it out...?

MOM

You've been in school for twelve years and you still haven't figured it out?

Mom is making air quotes with her fingers while Mar becomes bedraggled by the conversation. She pushes aside the papers.

MAR

(hushed)

What if...I do have it figured out but you won't like it?

Mom sits back, knowing.

MOM

Baby, being an actress isn't a career-

MAR

(defensive)

Yeah I heard you...'it's a lifestyle.' Whatever that means! I...I

want to write. Like be an author or like be a journalist. I don't know yet. But I want to be a writer of some kind.

MOM

The thing is about being a writer is that you're either stuck in obscurity or you're famous -there's no real in between.

Mar is now deflated, giving up. She gets up for a beverage abandoning the conversation.

MOM

Hey...Not that you're not good -you should write but you just need something stable to fall back on...

As Mom continues to speak, we see

EXT. UNIVERSITY OF WINNIPEG, MORNING

Throng of eager freshman, bright eyed, bushy tailed with moronic grins, hop into the main building.

INT. UNIVERSITY OF WINNIPEG, MORNING

Mar trying not to look terrified, walks through a more adult mass of students waiting to get into a room.

O.S. MOM

...I'm sure that when you figure out what you need to do everything else will fall into place.

INSERT (label on door) Education 101

Mar sighs and slumps against the wall. A fresh looking boy, typically tall, dark and handsome -his back slumped in the same crescent shape, across from her. They lock eyes and she smiles...

*****

It's true, I was told that a writer's life is as black and white as obscurity vs. fame. The rest of the scene, well, only I'll be able to tell which was fiction and reality -unless you know me real well then you probably know too! It took me a while to realize what kind of writer I wanted to become. With that said, it took me LONGER to accept the fact that I should probably just write already and stop pretending to fit into a branded mold of 'contributing to society adult.'

I could probably even have my own line of How to Make it in America Dolls: Retail Sales Associate Mar, Laundromat Store Supervisor Mar, Receptionist Mar, General Contractor Mar... The most nondescript doll would be Writer Mar -I don't even get a name tag. I'm ok with that though. Learning fast that a writer may be able to write an immortally incandescent line, but also can be a horrid conversationalist. M.Soriano would throw an eraser at my head if she could hear me now. A writer's life is lonely. When I work I would often stop and imagine talking to the characters in my story asking "Would you really say that?" or "Why are you so angry in this scene?" Also acknowledging that when one of screenplay goes into production I'll probably get driven out by the directors and producers so they can have their way with my baby...

With that said, this is it. Even if I'll have to blog here until I'm fifty before realizing my goal, I feel like I've already won. Writing means a lot, but it's not everything. Writing means a lot, but it's not everything... But it means a lot, so stick with me because we are on our way to the Oscar's friends!

Day 5,475...give or take.

FADE IN

INT. MARIANO C. SAN JUAN ELEMENTARY, AFTERNOON, 1996

A timid, bucktoothed MAR, 12, diligently navigates through the lush compounds of the rural school towards the admissions office. She stops in front of the door furthest to the back of the building.

INSERT (nameplate mounted on the door) "M.SORIANO, principal"

Mar gingerly smoothes her navy blue pleated uniform skirt and takes a deep breath...

INT. M.SORIANO'S OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

M.SORIANO, 52, looks officious scribbling her signature on a mile high pile of paperwork. There is a knock O.S.

M.Soriano

Come In.

Mar emerges, halting before the principal's desk. The principal is possessed in her task and doesn't bother to look up.

Mar

Ma'am, my name is Ma-

M.Soriano

Do you know why you're here?

Mar

(thinks for a quick second)

Because my homeroom teacher sent me...?

M.Soriano

You write well, do you not?

Mar is stunned unable to respond, M. Soriano looks up impatiently.

M.Soriano

Well?

Mar

Ummm.... I like to write ma'am.

M.Soriano

(seemingly annoyed)

Do you write well?

Mar

Ummm.... I don't know...

M. Soriano slowly ascends from her crow-like perch, towering over the child authoritatively.

M.Soriano

False modesty... is a sign of bad character. Do you

understand (Mar nods, lying)? I've read your feature articles

and you write with a lot of heart...I like it.

Mar

Thank you, ma'am.

M. Soriano

I can tell you enjoy writing when i read, because it isn't

hard to read your work...I don't get blinded with anger from your incompetency. I suppose when you're twelve, you aren't jaded or callous by the world yet...

Mar

(shrugs)

I suppose...

M. Soriano

So...let me ask you again. Do you write well?

Mar

I...love to write...and it is my intention to write well.

M. Soriano

Good enough. You will represent MC San Juan in a writing competition in Binangonan and place in the top five, understood?

Mar shrugs, terrified.

M. Soriano

Oh for Pete's sake stop shrugging! (produces a blank form)

This is a permission slip, get your parents to fill it in, sign it, we'll take care of the competition fees. Do you hear me?

Mar

Yes ma'am.

Takes the blank slip obediently, bows her head politely before turning to leave.

M. Soriano

Oh and stop saying ummm! You don't sound nearly as intelligent as you write.

*****

This was fourteen years ago and that competition is what started it all. 'Started' in the sense of cultivating my love for the written form of expression... not what made me famous, catalyzing my wonder-child screenwriting career, buying me my house by the beach, winning me my first Oscar. siiigh. But i've known it for this long.

It took me several attempts at 'grown up' jobs to make me realize that I shouldn't neglect my true calling -the almighty pen...or tywriter...or netbook... I am in a current situation in which 'spec' writing my heart out doesn't mean I'll starve or go homeless, so I'm making the most of it. This blog isn't so I can show off my work (you can read it upon request) or so I can vent about my personal life -it's to monitor my progress towards my path towards 'success'. For me, that means a trip to the Academy Awards. It can take me years, even decades to find my path and get there but this will be my map, jotting the many mundane, inspired, mortified, overwhelmed, pain-stricken and occasionally blissful days that will eventually burgeon into my success. You in for the ride?