518. The Ironies of Floatopia Isla Vista and the Marine Life Protection Act, Some Initial Thoughts....

By the time it's spring quarter, my mind opens up with happiness. The days are getting longer and it's getting warmer. Summer is just around the corner... and from the history of the Blue Horizons science-film summer bootcamp... I am developing an itch, a bug, to film something... go outside and pursue a few film projects.... It seems like this filming in spring and summer is becoming an annual ritual in my life, as if filming coincides with my annual metabolism. Then again, summertime is when no one bugs me, and I can give the university the finger (politely) and say yipee! I can do whatever the hxll I want! And when I realize what I want to do, it ends up being something related to the university.... But at least I want to do it!

Last week I slaved away at a grant (that I don't want to publicly talk about yet, because grants are a bunch of to-do lists and I would rather show people to-done lists, which end up being boootiful and edutaining... or at least I try to make them pretty and edutaining). This grant also included a proposal to produced two public service announcements (PSAs). And alas, my dentist, Dr. Dart, announces to me this morning: "Don't go to Isla Vista this weekend! It's Floatopia!!! Facebook has the announcement!" And perhaps to my dentist's dismay, my eyes beamed and I announced, "I gotta go! I gotta go!" I gotta "undercover" film the event! It's footage I need for the PSAs! He looked at me strangely, and then I continued justifying myself to his assistant, Lynn.

I want to film a short, short film that has a complex thesis. It has multiple twists, which is what I like, which is what I thrive on. Which is the epitome of Biological Incorrectedness.

In short, "Floatopia," which is based off of "utopia," is an epic annual spring beach event in which the twenty-somethings college crowd have found a loophole in the "no-drinking-on-the-beach" law by floating on Costco-grab-inflatable-rafts right along the shore... with beers, wines, and other forms of alcohol at hand. The tradition is fairly recent (within the last few years, apparently started in Isla Vista), but the participation has expanded tremendously into thousands upon thousands of people.... Floatopia events are now being held (or considered in being held) at Pacific Beach, San Diego, and San Luis Obispo (SLOtopia!)... and I'm not sure if anything's happening in Orange County or Los Angeles.... (tragic, Wikipedia knowledge, I should probably compile a series of news reports and police records to increase the accuracy of what I'm saying).

So, here comes my mixed up thesis. For one, I think this concept is epically brilliant! It's the continued Animal-House-like tradition of finding any form of loophole in the existing law to come out and having a smashing, alcohol-binging public party! I also think it's amazing how communities can come together and organize public events, create their own fun and adventure independent of "the grid" of consumed entertainment. Self-generated entertainment, Michel Gondry style (I think drinking beers on floats by the masses in the shallows of the ocean could only be a brilliant Gondry music video, it's absurdly hilarious!). In fact, I think Floatopia is SOOO clever that I bet right now some fortunate, high-paid Hollywood screenwriter is now working on a script to make this event as some form of modern Animal House film! Look, I just gave the idea away for free. Talk about the corruption of people in LA getting paid for ideas... *whatever* Sigh. As long as I get some nice, minimum wage academic-public-outreach related job in the future, where I can freely spread ideas and still pay my rent and health insurance (ahem, thank you Obama), then I'm happy.

And so there is a sad second part of the thesis. Unfortunately Floatopia in Isla Vista has a sucky side.... It has negative consequences. I just finished participating in a year-long political process in the design of marine protected areas in southern California, and a group of hardworking, educated citizens (fishermen, scientists, conservation groups, government agents) decided to place a marine protected area right outside of UC Santa Barbara and Isla Vista. It's part of the Integrated Preferred Alternative (IPA) plan and it will probably become official in 1-2 years. I just find it so ironic that people have worked so hard in this political process to largely restrict fishing, and place reserves in areas to reduced exposure to water pollution, but what about the general public? What about public awareness, public use of the ocean? How is that managed and restricted? Apparently extra enforcement will be placed this weekend out on these beaches, plus restrictions at beach access points, but this county and local enforcement... for a "public nuisance" event, not state law. And god knows about human impact of this event. Most visible is the trash left behind. Secondly, my fishing buddy told me that I should interview a bunch of people coming out of the water and asked them if they peed in the water. When you drink beer... you pee... a lot. And so, we come to directly, visibly see how the ocean is treated as the collective toilet bowl... most of the time perceived indirectly... and now... both can be visibly, tangibly linked.

Three messages.

One positive. Floatopia as community building and self-entertainment. The Epic College Party experience, Animal House, Gondry style.

One negative. Negative environmental impact on masses of people of the ocean, trashing, peeing in water.

One twisted. Political irony. Another living proof that the MLPA process was largely a fish-o-centric process, in which it was largely emphasizing fishing restrictions without much consideration of many other human impacts on the ocean... including the smashing Floatopia events.

The audience would be two-fold (1) to inform participants in the MLPA process of other ocean hazards besides fishing, and (2) to inform college students about the negative environmental impacts of Floatopia, the incoming marine protected areas in their backyard, and their reconsideration of the way how they choose to party, with a level of environmental consciousness?!

A good article I found was KCOY (and of course, even a graduate student resorted to being educated through Wikipedia).

Some questions to ask partygoers (1) Why do you participate in Floatopia? (2) How did you hear about it? (3) Did you pee in the water? (4) Do you know what a marine protected area (MPA) is?

468. EXTRAS, EXTRA! The Central Casting Experience, Past and Present! (Bonus Scientology Adventure Included)

Today I "dragged" myself into Central Casting in Burbank, essentially a great starting point for experiencing the "on-set" major motion picture scene. I was first introduced to Central Casting http://www.centralcasting.org by my cousin Mike Dillin, who informed me that all extras on the movie/television sets he had been working on were all in the loop of Central Casting. There really aren't too many other legitimate ways in order to be "surrounded by greatness" in Hollywood. There are so many cluttery scams found on the internet--all these agencies that will supposedly book you on major motion pictures and other venues, but about 95% of them are money-grubbing scams. I fell victim to a couple of them actually.

Central Casting is off of Olive-Flower Street in Burbank. I ended turning off of Verdugo St in order to finally found Olive. I bugged my father quite a bit for the directions--bad me--I didn't do my internet homework before! The strange thing is today I didn't find myself venturing too deep into "memory lane" of my previous Central Casting experiences... perhaps because they weren't exactly of too much worth for reminiscing.... Last time I was at Central Casting, I believe it was around the Spring of 2007, when I was doing some elderly-caretaking-house-cleaning-work in Orange County. I just came out of the money-grubbing pseudo-Hollywood experience of Barbizon, and I was finally going to take some initiative and sign up Central Casting. It was also right around that time in which I went to Randy Olson's production/film/studio across the street from Paramount. I was very nervous and jittery at that time. I was on leave of absence; doing things that were "intuitive" to me, but I didn't know where I was heading. I didn't know whether I was going to return to graduate school. And in terms of my "buffet" of artistic experiences, film-making was the last pit stop.

I found Central Casting and was overly conscious about preparing my hair and my make-up-plaster-bullshxt-foundation they call it? Well I wear foundation not from a self-beautification perspective; I actually plaster foundation for the purpose of MATTING MY FACE--ultimately a photographer's perspective. The foundation color is rather dark. I remember approaching the building of Central Casting which seemed like it was out there in the "behind-the-scenes" streets of Burbank--not much showiness to them feeling so important and excited--I would finally have the opportunity to be exposed to the Hollywood scene--directly--with my own eyes! And then when I entered the room, I encountered 200+ other people who perhaps felt equally as important, but then as soon as they encountered the masses of people who were signing up, suddenly they felt like they were "part of the herd," and perhaps the experience isn't as glamorous as they thought.

Just as today, we received a brief orientation to the paperwork. We had to fill out a basic profile form, a W-4 (claim 3) and an I-9 (SS + Drivers License). I did a lot of guess work in terms of my dress size, waist size, chest size... all those sizes I don't necessarily want to know. I was prepared today and filled out the form with my own pen--their remainder pens were all out of ink, essentially. And then being in the back of the room, in terms of registration I was close to last to be registered... well maybe more so in the middle. First set of people who go in line to be registered were the dregs from the previous registration period--they forgot their SS or other form of identification and had to wait in line... TWICE. Second wave of folks to get in line were those sitting on the table. The third wave included "us folks" in the back of the room. And the people who got the dregs were in the catty corner of the room by the photo booth. Poor them.

So, we had a lot of time to kill. Today I forgot the line was to be a line as long as the Disneyland log ride in scorchig 100'F weather; I should have brought Mike Davis' "Dead Cities" to read to pass the time, but I wasn't in my full faculties today. I didn't jog. I was feeling hyper and dirty. I knew that Central Casting only took a half-body shot of me, so I didn't even care what I was wearing on the bottom half of my body, which was jogger shorts. The line was moving as slow as ever, so all I could do was kill time by talking to other people around me. I met a rather shy girl who was an English/creative writing major just graduated from USC (probably in major debt) who's signing up for work as well as applying to be a substitute teacher. There was another talkative guy who did a dating reality show that twisted his info as presented to the world. And then toward the end I met this guy by the name of Dwight Andrew Galbraith of Bluff Entertainment, and this guy knows the ins and outs of Hollywood. He provided a lot of advice and tips, and maybe I'll be able to do some volunteer production assistant-related stuff associated with his work. Well that's good. I felt like I got a score. I met someone who may be able to help me some time with my future experiences. I shall enter this information into my Contacts List and Facebook. He helped delineate to me the boundaries of Cinematographer--mainly the dude who sets up shots and controls all the lighting. May have a few to hundreds of guys working under you, depending on how small or big budget the film is.

BRIEF MENTAL INTERRUPTION FROM FACEBOOK: MAN! I'M SO BUMMED! I COULD HAVE BEEN A DODO BIRD AT THE SCIENCE CENTER! I COULD HAVE BEEN A DODO BIRD! But no, we are interviewing for Roadtrip Nation. I responded to Ty letting him know that if this EVER happens again, please let me know, because I am actually qualified with my height! It's SOOO way better than being a Disney Character, like Pinnochio or something.

Okay, the other surprise is that Central Casting did not make me pay $25 dollars for re-registering. Bless them and the trees! The money now goes toward gas. The last time I was stuck in the line back in spring of 2007, I ended up talking to some teenage girl from Arizona and her mom, who both had great aspirations to become the "next big thing" in Los Angeles... just like everyone else in the room. Zooming back to today, there were two people who stuck out of the crowd of "ordinary people" (including myself). There was this lean African-American lady and her man of equal height, both color-coated in orange. She was wearing a colorful dress that had an American interpretation of African art-design patterns. Her face was of optimal mathematical proportions for top model beauty. I didn't know why she was signing up for Central Casting. I think she should have signed up for an acting/modeling agency/management company. Her beauty is so radiant so distinct, she'll be picked out of the crowd in no time. That woman was definitely one of those type of people that if I saw in the grocery store I would just go up to her and say I'll make a portolio and Zed card for you, free of charge, just for my own portfolio building aspect of things.

The first time I went to Central Casting, I felt that I didn't really meet anyone in particular who could advance my own internal growth and pathway to life, so at least this time I met Drew. The problem is last time I was a sucker. As soon as I vulnerably left the Central Casting building (after all the form signing and picture-profile taking), I was given a "free acting workshop" voucher. It was very obscure in concern of what this was about but this voucher turned out to be affiliated with "The Hollywood Church of Scientology." Gxd forbid, I dare say... I fell off a log and started venturing into a bizarre culture. I was naive enough to go out to the free workshop. I had been by that Scientology Church off of Gower (101 or 5 freeway?). A geology grad student at UCR by the name of Dave told me how his brother lived across the street from that church. His brother wrote screenplays as well. I first went there because apparently there was a bar across the street from the Church/Hotel where Robin Williams showed up and hung out.... I've always wanted to meet Robin Williams. Sigh. So, I already had initial curiosities about the church, and then this time I took curiosity to the next level. "Free" is the sucker in to becoming a money-dumping "convert" to the "bridge" that leads to "infinite freedom or enlightenment." I'm paraphrasing tremendously. The Church of Scientology is a rabbithole for curious and very VULNERABLE souls (post trauma, without direction), but if you get to deep, I have a sense there is no way of getting out.

So, I went to the acting workshop eh? It was very useful. We leared the ARC principle. Affinity. Reality. Communication. aka positive emotions, positive communication, building common positive reality. Essentially a mimic of a triangle I have created for myself. Emotions/values. Language. Cognitive maps. They all feed off on each other in a complicated web. The other aspect we discussed is the notion of expressing problems and realities through "building blocks" or these "non-designated cubes." So, it was about transferring your language mind into a "building block" visual mode, and life is essentially about playing a game of chess. There were a few other key elements that were useful from Scientology, like their own matricized version of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, but what really bothers me is why are all these philosophical/practical/scientific tools tagged with other incorrect myths, housed in a bureaucratic institution of religion?!! That bothers me tremendously. I can see why Tom Cruz, John Travolta, Barbara Niven, and several other artists resort to Scientology because there are several basic tools and exercises that can foster the creation of art, but other than that... there's a lot of money-grubbing hoakiness to the whole seen. Overly pushy niceiness. Plus they OVERLY glorify L Ron Hubbard to a point of godliness. He's the one who said (paraphrased) "If you want to make a lot of money, invent a religion." And so his money-making venture is coming full circle! (There was this stupid cat analogy, the reality of a cat, mental image in your head, whatever).

So, for EXAMPLE, I was so pleased by the free acting workshop (plus they gave me all these free books and brochures that were to inform me of the basics of Scientology) that I paid a measly $35 for some course in "personal efficiency." They keep prices very VERY low for newcomers. I actually met a prize-winning science fiction writer when I first began the course. I never finished this personal efficiency course, and never INTEND to... BECAUSE... (1) they were pushy about my own personal habits, for example, they said to eat a good meal and have good sleep, and I couldn't consume any food while in the course, which violates my own personal habit of gum chewing and candy-slurping and jaw clenching and (2) the personal efficiency course required a LOT of WRITING. And the questions were forcing me to write certain answers that were forcing me to wire my brain in a way I DID NOT WANT TO WIRE IT. I was strong enough to say that I already have my own personal philosophy. I am not going to let these people make me WRITE WHAT THEY WANT ME TO WRITE and ESSENTIALLY BRAINWASH me. (Some UCSB course took a group of students to have a tour of the place for a religious studies class) (I had to take some Scientology personality test, personal improvement test).

Even though the Scientology folks kept pestering me for months on after (even Txriel was annoyed by my bothersomeness with such things)--with phone calls and junk mail (even to this DAY!) to follow up with my Personal Efficiency Course and to extend beyond my free 6-month membership and all these expensive Flagship cruises and the like... I just had to cut the strings and distance myself. And so again, I experience a certain cult of people, a certain organization, and I take what I want from it and dump all the rest as dissolved bullshxt. Enough experimentation there!

What a curious, naive, vulnerable sucker I am! At least in this case, my White Stripes Instincts "Ohhh, I think I smell a raaaaattt, Aowwwh, I think I small a RAT!" kicked in just in time before things became more weird and perhaps inescapable to my monetary-debt bridge to infinite freedom. There's a lot of bad PR surrounding the Church of Scientology. I think the whole group is banned in Germany. Anyway, I just scratched the surface with this adventure, but it's a starting point. I have more details at home.

The one thing I was impressed with though was this little hoaky Scientology "e-meter." I had that e-meter done to me once, and when the dude operating the meter asked me questions, there was no movement of the "needle." Then he asked me about my current job, which was caretaking arthritis-wheel-chair-ridden Momma in Mission Viejo, that needle SPIKED as if I were just electricuted, except I was electricuted by my own INTERNAL ANXIETY! I think that experience was one of the last straws for my quitting that job. It certainly was a sign. Besides, Blue Horizons summer 2007 was coming up. That program saved my life, physically, mentally, emotionally, holistically-spiritually, whatever.

Well, TALK ABOUT A SIDE-TRACKING EXPERIENCE! The Scientology diversion was indeed an ephemeral time-hog in my life. I feel sick even thinking about it. Other than that, back in spring of 2007 I left Central Casting feeling pretty empty, with the question subliminally haunting me, "What's next?"

Maybe it was a week or so, but I finally called in the non-union hotline and I excitedly booked my VERY FIRST extras job. I found out later it was a Cattle Call for Made of Honor starring Patrick Dempsey (who was surprisingly very short). I was to be an "airport chick" hanging out at an abandoned airport with a thousand other extras (and a few cool production assistants). I think it was a 12-hour work day. That day was so fun. I met so many interesting people, including a guy who was the "stunt man" for Danny DeVito. He's about the same size and has some similar facial features. I also met a couple of musicians--singer, piano player--and just an overall intriguing group of people to chill out for the day. I was getting used to the notion that all I had to do was sit around, do nothing, blend into the background, eat lunch, and... DO NOTHING. And I got paid 100 dollars a day to do nothing. It's pathetic. Pathetically cool. And it came to me, I started to understand why the great Captain Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart) frustratingly complained about film-making. You sit around all day for 12 hours only to have 30 minutes of disjunct filming and acting. And then, upon returning to the Royal Theater in Britain, Patrick Stewart becomes involved in 3.5 hours of NONSTOP ACTING! He loves theater much more in its dynamics.

The second time I was an extra was an even COOLER EXPERIENCE. Two months later, I called in the right time for a Cattle Call (right before a jog in Lake Forest by Lillian's house) for Made of Honor AGAIN, but this time was awesome because it was the BIGGEST HALLOWEEN PARTY I had EVER been to IN THE MIDDLE OF MAY at OCCIDENTAL COLLEGE. I dressed up as a hippi punk rocker with a rainbow wig and received full attention from one of the make up artists. I was first in line. She added sprinkles and little peace signs to my cheeks. I even received a "special stamp" so that I could receive the union fancy food over the sack lunches. I felt sooo special! I met this guy who was dreadfully good looking and he actually started talking to ME of all things and we hung out for the day. He was a dude with a guitar and he had some good music tracks but I just felt that they didn't raise above the bar--they didn't evoke the chilling or warming emotions of Alexi Murdoch. I don't know where this guy's at. He's one one of my myspaces. He's from the other side of the country trying to make it in Hollywood, like everyone art. I met this African-American dude with a really cool American Judge outfit and he had an opportunity to interact with Patrick Dempsey (who wore an OJ Simpson mask at the party). This dude received formal education in acting from California Academy of the Arts?!! So he was a blast to talk to. I also remembered hangin out with 5-6 cheerleader-types who received SAGs from this cheerleader teeny bopper film. I even received a card from a production assistant who was providing me some advice, and I tapped into the mind of a SAG/union actor who gave me a lot of insider politics/scoop of Central Casting, and when it's best to call it. I also received advice from this cro-magnon dude who signed up for Extras Management, and he said he was managing to make around $1500-2000 a month as an Extra (mind you, this was BEFORE the recession, when Bush's croanies still kept this country in superb delusion).

Ephemeral, fun culture (of mostly single people, movers and shakers) of meeting and greeting with random people who were all living life on the edge, and most of them had their own personal creative projects they loved to share with other people. All of them held the American Dream of becoming the Next Big Thing... but I think that Dream sucks because you become the puppet of many corporations. That dream of becoming "famous" comes with a huge sacrifice of your own personal freedoms and ethics... unless you are Michael Moore or Randy Olson. Not too many of those around....

So, about a year later, when I had returned to UC Santa Barbara (I think I was struggling to get into UCSB), the film Made of Honor was released as a DVD, but never hit the movie theaters. It turned out the Halloween party was completely edited out... oh dear, let's just be politically correct! Whatever. I picked up the DVD and read the back side... oh lord, it's a totally cheezy slime-bag date flick. I felt appalled about being a part of a project that had no motive of responsiblity beyond the notion of cheap-thrill entertainment. WHAT TRAGEDY!

I didn't participate in Central Casting for two years. Two year hiatus. School swept me off my feet, perhaps in a good way. But then suddenly, I had a motive. AND A VERY SPECIFIC MOTIVE. I had this great fondness, great subdeityness of Michel Gondry and Charlie Kaufman after Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind sunk deep into my psyche--illustrating that the environment is a construct of the mind (with its special effects). Then watching huge chunks of Adaptation, then watching The Science of Sleep, blips of Be Kind, Rewind (trying to make creativity and community building accessible to the world at large, he's a humble person of the masses, for sure, there's not a snoot of snootiness about his air in all interviews, written and filmed, just a playful child, never grew up and society allowed him to never grow up) then the Human Behaviour music video, and then DECLARE INDEPENDENCE, my mind started going NUTS with creativity! My dream of meeting and having a civil conversation with Michel Gondry became bigger and bigger and bigger and more magnified, as his own work had trickled deeply into my own psyche. He has become a part of my thought processes and yet all he has been to me are pixels on a screen, an electical box. There's no interactivity. I cried several times, perhaps 15 times over the last 3 years, with a deep, inner yearning to interact with Gondry, to even merely verify that he is real, so that I can just stare at him in the face, shake his hand, and come to the simple epiphany, "If you can do it, then so can I." I found out as a teenager he wanted to become a scientist, but never went to college... and did all this art stuff. Largely self trained in pragmatic skills rather than bullshxt university theory. GO GONDRY! Three prominent pieces that I wrote, am currently writing that are DIRECT INFLUENCES off of Gondry's work is "The Peacock and the Bowerbird" (imagery from Declare Independence provoked the onset of writing the rough draft, which is an eleborate theory of the cycle of human communication to me) (rough draft sitting in my computer, as we speak), "Origins: Be Kind, Rewind" (a song/poem that used the title words from his indie flick) and "Catch Share," a short story that I wrote I have submitted to several literary journals. I included Michel Gondry and Charlie Kaufman in my devotions, because I felt that the story was a different theoretical spinoff of surrealistic, intellectualized human relationships from the Eternal Sunshine movie.

So, as you can see, internally I am ACHING. Deeply aching. Hours of internet searches, reading blogs and stories about Gondry and Kaufman. It's just not healthy. It's not an obsession, of course. It's just a longing to meet the colleagues who dramatically influence your own personal work, just as Dr. Jeremy Jackson made me cry from his collaborative Historical Overfishing paper. I need to meet the people who have ALTERED MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT. It's inevitable! The problem is, in academia, it's easy to track professors down. In Hollywood, film directors are surrounded by producers and big actors and publicists and journalists and the likelihood of ever having any ability to reach these people in a capitalist, closed-ended universe of underground Hollywood is close to zilch...

Except...

... within the last few months Michel Gondry had SEVERAL FREE PUBLIC APPEARANCES upon the release of a second collection of videos (I have his first video collection set; I haven't watched all the flicks). Gondry has made himself quite publicly accessible, but every single time I was either uninformed or just couldn't make it. I have been ripping my hair out! Maybe that's why I received two gray hairs this summer! I made a retroactive realization that I am ten miles from Michel Gondry when ComiCon was occurring in San Diego. This guy, who's largely in New York and France; it was the first time I realized I was within TEN MILES of this living tourist attraction! Oh, what agony of such an epiphany! I just can't take it anymore! I need to meet this guy!

Then there came Roadtrip Nation. I have craved to meet so many inspirational people and somehow Roadtrip Nation has allowed me to obscure the pixel-screen boundaries between me and my heroes, to finally make them real. Two people I NEEDED to interview or nevertheless meet BEFORE Roadtrip Nation is over is Michel Gondry and Pete Docter (Pixar). I had several interactions with Gondry's publicity team at ID-PR and I finally received an email response. I had no nerve to open it, check it. Because I know what it's going to say: Gondry is busy filming The Green Hornet. He can't hold extensive interviews right now. And then I was trying to figure out a way how to get on the set for The Green Hornet. I had IMDB Pro for 14 days and so I randomly started calling production assistants listed on the crew, asking how in the hxll did you get this position? I want to help / volunteer! What do I do? I even called a division of Sony Casting to get access to the production company information to see what I could do to help. I chickened out and never called. Chicken Vic!

And then, as my mission became more narrow and determined and focused, I talked to Cousin Mike who actually knew the director for The Green Hornet, he even texted her a hello and friendly phone exchange. I checked again and the Central Casting director shifted to a new lady. I called her in directly and left a message on her answering machine, stating that I was a Ph.D. student at UC Santa Barbara and I was intended on volunteering for The Green Hornet but was advised to contact you in terms of becoming an extra background actor.

And lourdy of all lourds all mightly greatness, a nice youthful voice contacted me Friday evening before I jogged (meeting up with Julie for the evening) stating that I could be on the Green Hornet, so easy and just like that; all I have to do is re-register at CC and call this number, and low-and-behold, I'm squared away! I jumped up and down and felt so happy; it was a moment in which I was wondering whether I could recall how happy I was--like getting the NSF Fellowship or joining the UC LEADs program? I was happy, I jogged so fast my usual Goleta jogging route, but is was more like I was sprinting (I'm lifting a heavy weight off my chest, for sure!), but then I was calm... and I didn't really tell anyone about this monumental feat of founding an avenue to finally see in the flesh one of my heroes, Monsieur Gondry. Michel, mon beau, some day mots qui vont tres bien ensemble, tres bien ensemble... variation of Michelle, Ma Belle oldies song. I no longer have to sing in mourning isolation, but in immense anticipation!

The Gondry/Kaufman Rabbithole in My Head is so deep, I don't think I can get into anymore details! I'm sure they will reveal to me once again, in due time....

So now, here I am, again, today, with everything coming full circle. The avenue of Central Casting opened up in the past and being re-inforced today, but now, I have a very specific-full-fledged mission. "Success in Hollywood" is a repulsive, artificial American Dream. There is no such thing as "success in Hollywood," but what is REAL is the forging of deep, strong bonds with individuals, and how these deeply committed bonds fabricate a novel reality and build a community of creation around you. And the outcome is a film, a book, a whole campaign, a whole new universe. And it spreads... and then somehow... you get money for it... and the byproduct of it all is the digusting label "success in Hollywood." It should be the passion and pursuit of friendships--soulmates--of higher consciousness. And that is the only thing that is truly real.

When I entered the cattle call room at Central Casting, I felt more calm and composed. All the other people were just other people. They were no longer my concern. I no longer felt vulnerable. They were background actors to my mind, because I set foot into Central Casting with a VERY specific mission. And I need to be motivated by the topic of the project from NOW ON. I left Flower Street coming to realize that across the freeway is a very pauche side of Burbank, and that my sister Jenny and friend Lauri were only about a 15-minute drive away. I'm starting to feel like home, even with Central Casting marked on my cognitive map.

If I want to elaborate this Central Casting story of mine, with images and details and the like... I have a plastic bag and folder full of information to tap into, back in my home in Riverside.

139. Blue Horizons Continued: A Philosophy Toward Human Interactions Mediated by the Film Camera

Kristin Hepper, my geology friend at UC Riverside, has a young black lab by the name of Billie. Billie goes along with Kristin wherever she goes. Quite a few times, whether at dog parks or random dog walks around campus, people would approach Kristin simply because of Billie: they wanted to pet this loveable dog! In general, people are closed off to each other. People don't randomly approach other random people. There's nothing in common. You're just another human being. Another object. You pass by thousands of them every single day. But then, with the simple agent of a dog, people stop in their tracks and are gravitated toward a four-legged, bouncing, drooling, hyper-tail-wagging creature. Through my experiences with Kristin, I have come to realize the power of having a pet, not only for individual psychology (I have written a poem called "the dogs" in which I will share in a future blog), but in terms of opening doors to random people under the common subject "umbrella" of pets. I guess you can call this organism-mediated human interactions. Or more specifically, dog-mediated human interactions. I actually felt very sad upon this epiphany. I wished so badly I myself had some form of "agent" that allowed me to open doors to meeting new, random people.

Then... I met Charlie. Charlie the film camera. Charlie the Sony DVX 2100 film camera D from the UCSB Film and Media Studies Department. Oh man, things changed pretty quick. Charlie and I got chummy fairly quick and once both of us became one unified, functional piece, I took Charlie out to start my filming for the rock crab project. I soon had come to realize that Charlie was very much like Billie: an agent for opening doors to meeting new, random people. I was exhilerated by this. Absolutely thrilled. Before, I had my Nikon D80 digital SLR camera in operation. Still photography doesn't appeal to people the same way as film cameras do. The first reaction is usually avoidance. Perhaps because SLR cameras are just "snapshots" and not-longer term recordings.... Though, yesterday, due to my photographying the graphic abortion-baby images by the Arbor at UCSB, I actually had a man approach me and give me a brochure of the entire display.

Throughout my filming of the Zen of Rock Crab, I have come to a few conclusions about my interaction with humans mediated through the film camera. There are three possible responses to the film camera: attraction (interest, curiosity), neutral (attempted apathy :-), and negative (aversion to the camera). I could say overall, people were mostly attracted and interested by the presence of the film camera. Not to mention, having a film camera opened up MY mind, and made me open and receptive to meeting new people and experiencing new things. It's like a defense mechanism. I feel safe when I hide behind a camera.... At first, people have an impulsive, aversive response just like the film camera. I am assuming because (1) they are shy (2) they become self aware of themselves and how they look and how they behave (since they're being watched and recorded). Even when learning how to voice record myself and film myself, I had a heightened awareness and level of distraction. I couldn't do it. Then after repeated encounter and interaction with these technologies, I have become desensitized. It's probably the same with my main characters of the film. They got very used to me. Very bored of me and my camera. So they just do what they do, and don't think about my being there anymore....

Some people were just neutral and standoffish. And even some people were instantly attracted by the camera. They would give me their business cards and had some ideas for projects... paid... of course. Many people thought I was a Brooks student. Nope. UCSB. Dah Bomb! A more affordable, public university! Amen! And finally, some people had a chronic, negative reaction to the film camera. This only happened to me once. Over the summer. There was actually a butcher in one of the Ranch 99 markets who approached me and angrily state, "You cannot film in this store! Go talk to the manager! Go talk to the manager!" And I stopped recording, covering the lens of the camera with black protectors. I talked to Kent (the rock crab distributor) about this, and he said this guy was probably antsy simply because there is a possibility that a lot of the Asians working at Ranch 99 don't have US Citizenship and might be here illegally. Oh. I guess that's a good reason to be aversive to the presence of a film camera. *Sigh*

So, given the notion that the presence of the film camera has altered human interactions (largely in a positive way), I am assuming that you can even scale out beyond a simple system of my interacting with rock-crab associated individuals. A hypothesis out there is that film is a technique for community building and social problem solving, and perhaps, even social re-organizing. I think film is the medium for bridging together all forms of irrational, neurotic dichotomies that I have encountered growing up. "An Inconvenient Truth" is a case in point, the re-integration of "education" and "entertaiment" (marginally) for human-environmental change. Film goes beyond cheap thrill and expands toward neurological development and behavioral change. I have case studies for this phenomenon, but not any "scholarly literature" (in which people scold me for, people in the university tell me that I operate "reversely," such that I first have experiences and come to my own conclusions, and then my brain is tagged with pre-existing literature... but I think people in the university act "reversely" in which most of them sit in the office reading other people's stuff, and then they expect to go out into the world and experience things. I feel that if you have no experience in a certain field, then you will have no ability to detect, collect, and organize any pre-existing literature in a unique way). So, I will have to collect such scholarly literature (so I can be "socially acceptable" within the university) and then film can be used as a human-environmental problem-solving method. I spoke with Maria Gordon (UCSB) and Kiki Williams? (a science-technology policy fellow for NOAA up on Capitol Hill) about this and they were both supportive of such an idea. This could be a technique used for fisheries management issues. Oh boy! I'm getting excited. For the Goleta Beach film, every single person was interviewed in isolation, but I think the trick is that a problem-solving film would involve three steps: (1) isolated interviews (2) everyone in the same room for interaction (3) then iniatiation of "collaborative scripting," as Maria Gordon called it. Then a longer-term followup.

An another example of using film for social and environmental change is... of course... Michel Gondry. His latest works have involved the theme of social and political change: (1) Bjork's brilliantly sadistic "Declare Independence" music video (2) "Be Kind, Rewind" the movie (3) and "Dave Chappelle's Block Party" (documentary). Gondry just radiates and captures positive energy, energy, ENERGY!!! The living cinematic human electric shock system! I remember Gondry stating that he was influenced by film and local community building efforts in France. He has recently delt with themes of re-integrating racial, social, class structures through film. I just saw the trailer for "Dave Chappelle's Block Party" and a few issues stuck out of my mind: (1) the movie captures not just an artist-centric view, but focuses on the artists' interaction with the audience, therefore bridging the class dichotomy between internationally renowned musicians and their fans (2) the movie deals with the skewing of messaging on the radio such that the musicians had the ability to express themselves and their concerns for their communities and serious social issues. All that is being heard on the radio is shallow, you're-hot-i-wanna-kiss-you-and-all-things-that-follow-and-he-she-broke-up-with-me-boo-hoo. Just mindless happy-go-lucky music to play in the grocery store and at bars. Of course, businesses don't want to depress their customers and raise awareness. They just want consumers to continue shopping at their store until they're dead.

One last thought. It's funny, though Lauren (my model for the above shoots, ha ha!) is a Ph.D. student in Film and Media at UCSB, she reminds me in several ways of Kristin at UCR. Thinkers, sensitive, yet strong-minded. Personable. Great to talk to.

One MORE last thought: film as a technology for social organization IN FRONT and BEHIND the camera. As I have said with the Goleta Beach situation, creating film is like an experiment in micro-government at the tribal (small) scale....

Charlie my camera is my pet dog. And we shall live happily ever after....

Define Documentary... Devil's Advocate with Dr. Janet Walker

One of the best classes I had with Constance Penley is when she invited Dr. Janet Walker in for a guest talk on documentaries, along the lines of "films of the natural and human environment." Constance even rescued me from the computer lab in Kerr Hall to come watch. I am ashamed now that I was 30 minutes late, though I was frantically editing film.... Dr. Walker is so full of life and very articulate. She also provided input with my circumstance of writing Question Reality. How would you define it? Two "fictitious characters" that are "real in my mind" and "partly real" in tangible Reality, that go on a quasi-fictitious road-trip, who discuss very Realistic philosophical and scientific issues that relate to the state of the human-environmental condition today? I had to create this buffer zone in my mind just to write about Deconstructing Reconstructing Reality. How do you "classify that"? Matt and Dr. Walker and even Dave Panitz (a cool Bren School of Environmental Science/Engineering grad student) said not to worry about classification, and just be your own thing, but I said that creates great problems for the rest of society, like those &^%*#@ book publishing companies who are so eager and ready to pigeonhole you, and if they can't pigeonhole you, they don't want to deal with you. Especially if your book is over 200 pages. So, everyone backed off as soon as I qualmed about my rather ill relationship with the book publishing industry. Dxmmit. But Dr. Walker nonetheless liked very much my description of Question Reality to her that within a minute of describing my circumstance, she exclaimed: "Wow, that should be a movie!" So, she sees what I see, right off the bat, and that is a good sign. I am glad Dr. Walker made us think about "definitions" because that is the fundamental starting point of my book, questioning existing definitions and creating new ones. Definition and classification and pigeonholing. It's a necessary thing to do when you are playing with the Reality and perception and organization of your mind. Playing with definitions rather than viewing definitions as locked in stone has been a very important mental tool in my life. Perhaps a crucial stepping stone to my march out of the mental sicknesses associated with anorexia. I think it has liberated my mind infinitely because my mind is so plastic now, I can alter my own Reality and perception at any point in space and time because I can change and invent words and their meanings, the rapid co-evolution of spacetime and language at any moment of the on-going now. Hence my "The Matrix of the Mind: Mapping Language on Landscapes."

What can I say? I rarely click with a professor right off the bat. I was very excited and conversive in Dr. Walker's class, and she was very responsive to my circumstance. The vibe comes off immediately. I don't believe in stereotype and snap judgment, but I guess I learned from Barbizon that you can feel and detect a sense of personality of an individual within a few minutes, though it's best to have long-term observation of the individual because emotions are dynamic and fluctuating, and you may not have an enduring understanding of the person. Your perception of any system changes (whether a human being or a landscape) the vaster and longer in space and time you observe and interact with that system.

Human relationships are like Markov Processes. Butterfly Effect. The development of human relationships are like fractals. Exactly. FRACTALS. The end result of the relationship is highly dependent upon the initial premises of when encountering and meeting the person the very first point of contact, the very first time.

I mean, sometimes relationships start on a wrong foot. For example, in the beginning of Blue Horizons Program, I tried to be very nice with Maria and tried to be her friend (science communications expert from Spain), but a couple of times she brushed me away and didn't talk to me. But now, by the end of the program, we are just buddy-buddy and she let me stay at her place, and we talked about several deep, philosophical things, like the properties of the male species, and that basically the world looks as it is today, largely because it is the shaping and molding of the male mind. Which is essentially a divide-and-conquer-testosterone-infested mess. The room called planet Earth is a MESS made by the accumulation of MEN in history. And not only it's a messed up Environment, all the STORIES, scientific and non-scientific that we have been told and inherited in our education system, have been invented by the MALE SPECIES. There is a level of disconnect in language and mental continuity of space and time across departments and disciplines as a result, because men for several hundred years in the university and the world have been playing games of intellectual territorialism and their own little ingroupies, and thrived off of debate (firing squad wars of the words are more "socially acceptable" than fish-fights and gun shooting, but it's the same mentality). Male intellects beat their chests and fought wars with words rather than guns, but essentially the words just fly by the ears and nothing gets really absorbed. Philosophy of western civilization was built upon debate of the male mind, not conflict resolution and problem-solving and synergism, which are intrinsic behaviors and mentalities of the female mind, not the male. I had some poem that talked about how all the man did was want to chop the land up and physically own and conquer everyone else, when all the female wants to do is keep everything together and in one piece. You see this theme clearly in Grapes of Wrath and I'm sure countless of other classic pieces of literature.

So now, where am I at? I am talking to Maria about this, like at 2:30 or 3 am in the morning. Maria and I being both very self-sufficient, independent-spirited females who don't take very well the bullshxt of male specimens. It has only been within the last few decades that females have established some level of rights and privileges and freedoms. I didn't notice this female rights issue was EVEN AN ISSUE when I was a kid because my father treated me as a human being who had the capacity to do anything. Gender was not even an issue... until... more noticeably, graduate school hit. So now, female are establishing rights and power and any sense of ability to change things in the modern world, look now... the world is so gxdxm fxcked up from the cumulative summation of generations of male minds butchering this planet. And just as females clean up and keep the house in one piece (as males come home to dirty it up), female leaders are looking at this planet and seeing the same thing (as I see it), it's time to get out our brooms and our cleaning supplies, and clean up this one giant, chaotic mess these gxdxm male species did to our planet. The funny thing is I have encountered a small hand-ful of males who have admitted to their own stupidity and dis-evolution. Ha. Now to a point of reading Milton Love's poem: males are useful just as a sac of sperm. But that's about it. No, they're more useful than that. I told Maria that my father is totally useless about training me on how the male species works. He's just a mutation. He's left-handed. Makes him too sensitive and too spatial and too respectul. He represents close to nothing as what I have had to systematically discover myself....

I think the future of male evolution is toning down testosterone and being a little bit more socially sensitive. Obama for example, is left-handed, in which the left-handed males I know have a bit less testosterone revealed in their personalities, and are resultingly more sensitive to other human needs, rather than masseussing their grand, aching egoes of superiority. Sorry for repeating this (I wrote this paragraph a little earlier, and am just dumping it here).

So, though my understanding and relation with Maria was quite rocky and questionable in the beginning, now we are just buddy buddy, theorizing about the state of the planet (oceans in particular), the theoretical curse of the male species, and how we can portray such ideas through film and other media. Ha. A short-term sour relationship can easily blossom to a long-term, solid understanding and bond.

And still, I don't consider myself to be a feminist. I'm sure you're laughing, whoever has managed to read this. No, seriously. I am not a feminist, at least on traditional, radical definitions of feminism. Okay. Maybe I'm a theoretical feminist.

So, I have had superb vibes with Dr. Walker from the start, though I did overwhelm her with my situation in the last meeting. Well, I told her I have some NSF funding, so maybe that will make her and other professors forget about my troubled graduate school past, and look forward to a few years of a successful future... "success" being an arbitrary definition of finishing up a meaningful Ph.D, with my being self-sufficient and low-hassle. I just need a support group of profs to accept me for my eccentricities, and accept me for knowing that whatever I produce will not get me employed after I graduate, because society simply hasn't created the opportunities yet. And that I take responsibility for that circumstance. I am an intellectual risk-taker to some degree. I don't climb El Capitan at Yosemite physically, but I do it mentally. It's a troubling pain in the xss, but Milton Love says in the end it's more fun that way. I think I may have a tiny bit more testosterone than the average female.... Hmmm.... I can blame my parents for that. It's not my fault. I just have to DEAL with it.

What is the definition of a Ph.D? The definition of a Ph.D. from UCSB is very different from a Ph.D from UCLA or UCR. At UCSB, my mind's heart is emotionally invested in the intellectual and social atmosphere at UCSB. A Ph.D. has a personal, individualized meaning. And I'm not just a mass-production shop-product of the university. And thankfully, a Ph.D. with a personal meaning may also reveal itself to have an institutional meaning as well. Definitions of the same thing are very different in different locations.

In the end, it's all a matter of individual perception. In the end, it's all a matter of Relativity.

Dxm the male species. Because of you, the entire university, the entire "universe" needs an intellectual overhaul and re-organization. Dxm, dxm, dxm. Because of you, I had to Question Reality. Dxm dxm dxm!

But remember, this is my stance. "Living the life of the paradox: I like people. I hate humans. I like my guy friends, but from a theoretical standpoint. I hate the male species."

In the end, I was so glad to meet Dr. Walker that I signed up for her class in Films of the Natural and Human Environment for Fall of 2007. I can't wait for class to start, though I need some downtime to organize stuff.

People Hurt My Feelings in a Major Way

Okay, "X" said that I'm welcome here... anytime. And "Y" doesn't say that. Doesn't want me there. Hmmm. He looked terrified of me. As if I were some type of disease that would never go away. Thanks, man. I feel wonderful. Yes, it's all a matter of perception, ain't it?

I said earlier, when I was crying, I said earlier that you are a very rare person, and there are few people who accept me as is, and you just took me in that way. And then he said, "Awh, there are many other people out there...." He said that, and man, that was like punching me in the stomach, whacking me in the face, throwing me in the gutter, basically consuming me like a killer whale shredding up and consuming a seal. Raw, live beef jerky. Bones and all. Fxck, I'm an overemotional, "overimplificational" female, dammit. How I interpret such a wise-xss comment is that (1) I am not selective with the human beings I choose to associate myself with (2) There are many fish in the sea, and that I'm just another one. Go find another, and (3) I'm sure there is a third point, but I can't think of it right now. I wrote in my godxm song "Humanity Anomalous" how I over the past two years have met and encountered hundreds of thousands of people, and then suddenly, there's this rabbit hole. Just one. That I... that I... can't just gloss over so easily. A rabbit hole I desire to mentally consume and envelop myself around. And just to flick me off as some other fxcking intelligent respectful person. Fxck that, fxck fxck fxck!!! I just want to scream. What a thoughtless comment. Is that what he thinks of himself? Why doesn't he know? Why didn't I show him out of my own sanity and survival, I created a fictitious character abstract concept in my head named "Buz." And then suddenly, in full-blown randomness, I find out that this abstract concept living in my head for like three years, can actually be a real-live tangible person?! Come on! It's like playing God! I designed a fictitious character, and suddenly, poke poke poke. Hey there, whoa. No way. You are real. I don't believe in God, but I'll be dammed this experience has been dxmmed close to a science fiction movie. Okay? A Michel Gondry mental trip. Okay? Pretty godxm close to God-ness. And look I'm even giving it a "capital G" this time.

Am I such an xss? I don't deserve to be treated that way. I feel like I'm a flicked off piece of shxt, though I'm sure that's not the intention, but well, he gave me that look, that terrifying look that S gave me a few years back, that B gave me a few years back. A terrification of my intelligence? What is it? Why don't I just destroy my brain and become a dumb-shxt slut bleach blond. Then people won't get scared of me. I'm tired of people being scared of me. I'm just tired. Milton Love was right. Intelligence in an innovative way is devastating in this society. They haven't created opportunities for you yet. People look at you strangely. Dxmmit I'm crying.

You know what? All I want, before I die is to finish and publish this godxm fxcking book. This Question Reality book. And this real life tangible Buz right in front of me. Who has shoved me off, for his own purposes. If I have a real Buz versus an abstract one in my brain, I can finish this book way faster than before. If he doesn't want to deal with me at a personal level, I'll just go professional. I'll pay stipend. One quarter. Two quarters. Be an agent. Philosophical consultant. Actor character consultant. I need your presence, your intrinsic character to finish this fxcking book. I'm desperate, dxmmit. I'm desperate for my life, dxmmit. You don't need to prove anything to me. Just be as is. A place to crash. Someone to bxtch to a little bit in the evenings once or twice a week or every other week. That's all I need. It's like "intellectual sex." It's what I live for. I get a total pleasure high interacting with the summation of elements in the world around me. And I just need to displace this just to one... real... Buz. No fake, imaginary one in my brain. I'm tired of that. I am SICK and I am TIRED.

Now I'm just being a flat out xsshole. At this point in space and time, my writing has frozen something true. I'm sure my perceptions will change tomorrow, or a few seconds from now, as my mind keeps evolving.

The ultimate truth comes down to what my mother says: (1) You are on your own. The only person you can control and change is yourself. (2) What other people say of you does not necessarily reflect who you are, but ultimately reflects them and their own internal perception of you. So I guess "Y" is revealing his fatal flaws, based on what he said earlier today. and (3) But godxmmit. Despite (1) and (2) I am a godxm eusocial mammal, and I need other Homo sapiens to survive, physically and mentally.

"Everything in moderation. Even moderation itself." But I suppose that's even beside the point right now.

I am an intellectual waif, dxmmit! I don’t belong to any school. Any institution. I belong to essence of CCS. I belong to my family. And I am an Earth Citizen. Out of survival. That’s it. But that’s beside the point as well.

Look, "Y" told me not to beat myself up about this. Huh. Funny. That's all I have been doing all day. Thanks. I'm mentally beating the shxt out of myself. Right now, I want to kill more than half of my brain. I just want to kill nearly every single male Homo sapiens in existence. Except for my dad, grandfather, few family members. My dad taught me nothing about how males work. He's no help. He's useless. He's left-handed. He's totally, utterly useless.

Then again, despite the evolutionary and ecological pain in the xss the male species has been to this planet (in my brain, and in this modern environment) if Earth entirely consisted of females with only a small sample of male bags of sperm (my father's invented 'experimental utopia'), then it would suck because females take the world too seriously all the time, and we need some jokester guy to just break the ice and keep things loose. Just a little bit. Not too much. I just want to dis-evolve. I totally set myself up for this. I am a total xss.

Dxmmit, "Y." You're not just a bag of sperm, like the rest of them. You are so much more than that. If only you knew it, and treated others that way. I guess I can write all this crxp because who in the hxll is reading this blog anyway? My thoughts are buried by the chaotic clutter of the rest of this internet.

DISCLAIMER. THIS BLOG ONLY HOLDS TRUE IN THE HOURS OF 10PM TO 11PM ON THE DAY OF SEPTEMBER 13, 2007, AND SINCE MY MIND EVOLVES QUICKLY, THESE WORDS SHALL BECOME OBSOLETE AND A DISTORTION FROM THE TRUTH WITHIN A FEW MINUTES.

Godxmmit, if you really are a "socialist." If you really want to be a socialist and do a socialist service to society, just please, please help me finish this book. Just be yourself and let me shoot the shxt with you once in a while, just a quarter, just a few months. Then I'll be out of your way, and you'll never see the likes of me again.

Just shut up, Victoria. Shut up.

Maybe my mind is rapidly going through the five stages of death and denial. Hmmm…