While I Was Out... Part 1

So, I've been m.i.a. for a minute now and I wanted to talk about it.  I was feeling pressure to create something dope &/or profound or ultra insightful.  But pressure from who?  Shak?  The blog gods?  lol  Nope.  As I break it down it seems quite ludicrous because it's me.  I felt like in order to share I had to have had some epiphany or something amazing happen.  The truth is that has all happened and I still know I don't know or get everything 100%, although I'm really trying to. lol  I felt like I needed to have some long involved story to share in order for a post to be meaningful but I realized just now (seriously, just now) that's not it at all.  As long as it's honest then it's meaningful to me, anyway, and maybe someone else out there in the cosmos.  :)  

In 2010, I came to truly understand that I'm as much a Producer as a Director, jumped out of a perfectly good plane, did a triathlon, fell in love, bought an iPhone and went to vegas for the first time in life.  That's just a taste of what I didn't share.  Geez.  Bless my heart.  lol

The Director-Producer story:  So, I met with that amazing DP I spoke of in earlier posts, Yash, and we had some great meetings regarding this documentary I am planning.  The meeting started out as a Director and Cinematographer bouncing creative ideas off of one another.  Super awesome.  Then, we got down to discussing the nuts and bolts of actual execution and I had to switch into Producer mode because that's the other role I am playing.  It was fine at first but then I had to start saying "Let's try to figure out another way to do that because of money." And then I had to use the "n" word..."no."  Argh!!  It was all warm and creative and fun and then I had to go and be the Producer.  Yash wasn't upset with me or anything, it was more of an inner turmoil matter because when I got into my car I felt a bit drained.  I felt like, "man, this isn't what I want to do.  I want to be a Director.  Be creative and just have fun, man!"  But that producer is another aspect of me, another facet that has to be expressed, as well, and I am not maxing myself out if I shun that part of me from the sun.  I know what that entails and can and do it well.  I must remember to remember to be grateful for that every second as much as the creative vision.  I understand that my initial internal push back was me feeling like I was in the mode that I have to be in my job-job, which is disconnected from the actual creative element.  The gift is that I can utilize the on-the-job training in my own creations.  This was the first time I had to really go there and now I feel so incredibly fortunate to be able to use so many skills.  Ahhh, I'm such a winner.  lol

More later...gotta get some shut eye :)  Until next time....

100.

Bright

How to Take a Punch

Ho-ly crap, I just got gut checked.  I quit drinking and cigs and am eating supremely well so, there's no outside comfort.  I'm processing and accepting this straight, no chaser.  So, what happened?  Well, I sent the screenplay I've been working on to someone I know who's a screenwriter.  Man, when he sent me back notes..... I almost wanted to cry, for real.  I mean, my jaw was on the floor.  I knew I needed some help, which was the reason for me reaching out but, damn.  lol  And I can "lol" now because it's been a couple of hours but initially it was definitely a blow... to the ego.  After about 15 min, when the shock subsided, I could really see it for what it was.  I did know initially that I got exactly what I asked for, which was help but, I was still hurt.  Why hurt?  Because I put a lot of effort into it, read up, studied, cut, reworded, revamped etc. and he ripped it to shreds.  I was basically told, to paraphrase, that after all of the revisions, editing, compressing and such I would have about 15 pages.  Um, I thought I was almost done.  Hahahahaha Bless my heart.  However, I needed to see from a professional the best way to continue to move forward and what needed work.  I am truly appreciative and happy that I had the guts to hand over my baby to a stranger and ask him what he thought about it all.  I am grateful that he is knowledgeable and took the time to critique my work.  What I learned from this experience is that which is easy to love isn't always easy.  I have been in love with movies since before forever and I know that I'm a great visionary and I have wonderfully powerful ideas.  I know I can actually write very well.  Screenplays are a different beast.  I decided to start writing screenplays because I wanted to be able to tell my stories, not just other people's.  I need to showcase the truth about the human spirit and share how we decide to grow or not in a visual format and create it from scratch.  I must dig even deeper, learn even more and make sure that I am absolutely clear in what I'm sharing so that even a stranger can feel it. 

I am a perfectionist and it's hard on that pesky ego of mine when I'm not perfect out of the gate on something, especially when I want it so badly.  I am still winning because I'm not throwing in the towel.  Never gonna happen.  And I am taking the feedback and letting it be a guide for where I need to work harder as opposed to simply lashing out and giving up or not acknowledging more effort is needed.  I know that I'm getting better all of the time and this is a part of the process.  How do we grow if we don't know what we need to do better?  So, that initial pain is really just the sting of medicine cleansing, not poison.  I've taken it in and am going back to work.  

100.

Bright

She's Got That Sparkle!!



I was talking to my pops as I normally do on a fine Saturday morning, and I told him about how I became familiar with those who live life with PASSION.  And I tried honestly to find a word that completely describes these types of folks but couldn't find any word that quite captures the essence.  I will refer to them as Passionistas.

How does a person become a Passionista?  The answer is I don't know completely.  I do know however, when I was first introduced to the underground society ANNND when I first pledged.

I remember the first time I met someone whose energy was completely on fire.  That's really the only way I could describe her.  She was my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Dorn.  She had to be in her late forties at the time which is clearly grandma territory to a kid.  BUT she didn't look a day over 27 with her flamboyant, ultra bright colored dresses and screaming red lipstick.  She wore high heels and pranced around the room like a character straight out of Disney.  I remember begging my mother to get to school extra early just so I could wait for her presence.  I was hypnotized.  Only her title disclosed she was a teacher but I always thought she wasn't from this world.  It was very obvious to me that she possessed "other abilities" like knowing the inner workings of magic potions and spells.  School just couldn't come soon enough, because deep within the walls of the classroom I was learning the framework of the hidden arts.  This was the first time in life where I think I worked around the clock for someone just because I couldn't help but do so.  I would clean, sweep, organize...anything to be in the midst of the "great one". 

It was there I wrote my first lines of poetry while listening to classical music.  I would use 10 different colors of glitter to design the cover for my very first novel.  I also learned about the heroic adventures of Perseus and the wonderful characters that dwell within Greek Mythology.  Who was she really?   I always thought I would find an answer.  But you see at this time in my life, I didn't have a voice to ask.  I mean sure I was a writer.  Words streamed together was my first language.  But I didn't know how to talk.  I would just do my work and turn it in with the rest, never raising a hand or talking out loud in class.  I didn't know my opinion really mattered that much.  And then it happened.  She called on me in class and I got the wrong answer.  I WAS MORTIFIED!

And I remember her words, "Shakira, don't make a mountain out of a molehill".  Well, that sounded great and all but I was totally embarrassed, one by hearing the sound of my own meek voice and two by not knowing what the hell a molehill was?  So she did what any great teacher would do.  She enrolled me in the school wide oratorical contest.  That's right, she picked the MUTE in her class to speak on behalf of the magnet school. And to add insult to injury, she picked a god-awful long poem for me to recite.  It was titled, "What shall I tell my children who are black"?  INTERESTING.  For at this point in time, I knew about as much about Black History as South Park's Cartman knows about etiquette...not much. 

I was supposed to deliver a poem about Black people in front of the whole SCHOOL?  But what if I forget half of it?  What if everyone begins to laugh at me?  What if the kids start asking more questions about my race?  Didn't she know that my mom checked white in order to get me in the magnet?  Everyone and their mom always asked questions about my race but I didn't know what that was. I remember telling the other kids that I was Creole because my parents told me to say that.  But ummmm yeah, in the 4th grade, who knows what that is?  I couldn't explain it.  Maybe I was a completely different species.  Why couldn't my parents have just said I was Black or White or something that all other kids understood.  Let's face it.  The whole situation was a perfect SET UP for a complete disaster. 

I attempted to cry my way out of it for a whole week.  And it was an UTTER FAIL.  This was Mrs. Dorn after all.  The fairy who had decided for better or worse to use her magical powers AGAINST me.  Not only did I feel betrayed but I was completely lost.  How could this be? It was I who served as her right hand apprentice.  Why wouldn't she show me favor?

The day before the contest I remember having my first and only PANIC ATTACK.  Then the thoughts of defeat just came rolling in one by one.  Maybe I could fake my own death or better I could run away or I could...

The morning of the contest I was actually relaxed because I had completely exhausted myself the two weeks before with non-stop crying and pleading.  I decided that the whole thing was one BIG JOKE.  The mute speaking in front of the school.  I think I was on the side of being delusional.  I thought no one would be paying attention.  I'll go up, say a few words, they'll give me a sympathy applause and I'll be on my merry way.  And so I remember taking the stage with a "La-Dee-Da" attitude.  And then it happened...I heard myself for the very first time.

In the midst of the recital, I could actually hear how I sounded and all the tones bounced around the auditorium, the low notes, the high notes and everyone was listening.  The poem itself created the perfect backdrop with its melodic words about heart break and gut wrenching exclusion.  I was just a kid.  But it started to flow because the words felt utterly TRUE.  Why was the beautiful color black demonized?  Why were things that were different criticised?  In my mind I replaced the title with What Shall I Tell the Mute who Doesn't Speak?  I knew that pain far too well...being quiet, being different, and being creative. 

Check out the poem:
http://www.sojournersplace.com/2009/07/what-shall-i-tell-my-children-who-are.html

When the poem was finished.  Crowds of parents, students and teachers all ran to the front of the stage to start asking me questions.  "What is the name of the poem again"?  "Who is the author of that poem"?  "What made you choose this poem?"  All of a sudden the mute was an authority figure on a subject that I hardly knew about a month ahead of time.  It was overwhelming to say the least.  WHO WAS I?  I won first place.  The mute won first place in a speaking contest. 

And just as you expect for a magic fairy to do...Mrs. Dorn gets through the crowd and tells me, "Don't forget this moment".  How could I?  She had conspired against me from the very beginning.  How did she do it?  Maybe she snuck a few drops of her magic potion in my juice when I wasn't looking. :)  And for that I'm eternally grateful.  Sometimes those who are seemingly against us are actually working in our favor.  Next time you are ever so fortunate to meet one of these types, as CRAZY as they may be.  Listen to the Passionistas!  Watch them!  Study them!  It is this secret society who give us the "other advice" on how to become more in this lifetime.  And if you listen long enough you may be lucky enough to hear them whisper your formula for greatness.  Whatever it is, it will equate to "Dare Great & Mighty Things!"

Shak
100.