You’re so f*cked up!

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Hello Blog-Landia! I have not written in a while. I am quite aware. However, I have been doing a lot of writing outside of this blog. Mainly for theater, which is a very happy circumstance. Why? Well, because I also happen to Act. So writing for the stage has been quite the fun adventure for me. Also, I’ve discovered that I write funny. Not throw yourself on the ground funny (though I hope to someday), but like — Oh what a clever joke! kinda funny. ¬†I keep thinking about making a Shakespearean type of play one of these days, or a drama. But people usually laugh at my drama, so I think I’m meant to write funny. ūüôā My serious deep altercations end up sounding like a skit of Lucy and Ricky fighting over what to eat for breakfast. I try not to judge it.

Let’s go back a little, since I’ve been away for a while.

I don’t know about y’alls but 2016 was balls for me. Sure, I could look at all the wonderful positive things that happened — and don’t get me wrong, a lot of cool sh*t happened. BUT MAN!!!¬†The good people of the earth got a cold hard reality check with Cheetoh in the oval office. Huh? I hope his presence there will someday bring laughter and confusion to the children of the future. How could they have let that happen? Dear God, was this a joke? Yes, kids. It was. And you know – let me just summarize the rest of my recent political trauma. Let me¬†admit something: I have never had such a visceral experience in my life over politics, as I have had the last few months. I mean…it was bad. I think at one point during the month of November, I actually¬†started sneezing hearing the term “President” thrown about so carelessly. But we survived the end of the year…and now it’s 2017.

Yeay!

Right?

As my young millennial friends would type: -__-

One can only hope for the best.

I mean, it’s that time of the year when you get to re-invent yourself. Talk about your past mistakes and vow that you’ll never do them again. And if January 1st didn’t do it for you,¬†we just had the Chinese New Year a few days ago…so technically, there’s a second¬†chance¬†for you to¬†be hopeful for the future. Me? I just downed some Pork Fried Rice and had a philosophical conversation with my father about why Gay Marriage is a right. He’s a Christian pastor, so the talk was a little rough. But since we have love for each other, we shook hands like two proper gentlemen and said our goodnights.

Anyways, I’m back folks. And to be quite real —¬†there was¬†a part of me that was like…should I just delete this blog? I don’t write in it, God knows who the heck reads it, and so forth and blah blah blah. Pero, like, it’s my fault. I should have been more proactive about that.

For now, I’ll share the following wonderful event that happened to me today:

I went to my very first group therapy session! I won’t say what the therapy was for, but man on man did I learn a lot about¬†how dysfunctional the whole world is. And frankly, it made me feel better to know that there were a lot of us who had been triggered by this political circus. A lot of us who are…as Hollywood would say it,¬†¬†f*cked¬†up from the recent activities in our society. Yet, sharing and being real about what is happening in my life to a bunch of strangers was pretty awesome. And it was also very liberating to know I wasn’t the only screwed up person in the room. There are many of us. ūüėÄ

Anyway, I am trying to get rid of guilt that has me all discombobulated and what not. So I am here to say that I do not feel guilty for not writing on this blog. I do not feel guilty for growth and departure. Sometimes, we need to step away to regain ourselves. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, after all.

I have missed you, Reader. Whoever you are. I hope this bizarre entry brings you a little bit of joy, and a little bit of peace. And if someone ever tells you:¬†You’re so f*cked up — Reader, just know that deep down that person is also hurting with their own traumas and such. Release yourself from the ties of whatever is holding you down, and just do you. As for me, I’ll be doing¬†a whole lot of writing. My goal for 2017 is to submit a pilot to a studio and see where it takes me.

Because if it’s one thing I learned from therapy today, is that everyone suffers from something. Might as well try to¬†make some people laugh while they’re in their journeys. I will keep practicing funny within the drama. This¬†f*cked up person is the right lady¬†for the job!

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No journal, no gold

Well Blog Land, I did not have the heart to NOT talk to my mother on Father’s Day – as it seemed she was having a hard time telling from one person to the next due to her already peaked anxiety of, you know – being brown and with an accent in this country. So, yes, we did speak but mostly at the table as we passed food to each other. However, I made sure she know I did not forget about my journal. She¬†promises¬†she doesn’t¬†know where it is, but I know that promises don’t mean crappadoodledoo in¬†this crazy¬†family.

I politely¬†sat beside her during Father’s Day breakfast, asked her to pass the yogurt and strawberries in a calming voice. Lucky for her my aunt’s boyfriend was there. He annoys me beyond all reason. He pretends to be an all knowing God-Man who is the epitome of class and karaoke competitions. My aunty loves him for some reason, and being that I am now thirty – I can’t simply sabotage a relationship based on weird vibes I get from people. No, no – that’s the eleven year old inside of me. Now, I just make sure I battle him on strictly Feminist issues, as they also pertain to my aunty’s role in his kitchen. She doesn’t mind, it makes her laugh actually. Thanks to him, my mom did not receive my anger to the fullest of its capacities that day. Thanks to the boyfriend,¬†I only got to see my gramps¬†for 1 hour on Father’s Day. What a d*ck.

Anyway, after my aunty left with my gramps and God-Man, my mother asked¬†me if she had left her¬†golden earrings at the house two weeks ago. I¬†have not seen any golden earrings, but if I do — that will be my ransom.

“You want your gold? Give me back my Ireland journal,¬†mother.”

She hates it when I call her mother. It always reminds her of the first part of the curse word. She nods nervously, and walks away to the living room where my stepfather sat alone. After Mexico lost, he has little interest for soccer.

Writing Partnership Part 2

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Dearest Writers in Blog Land,

A few days ago I posted about being contacted by a person who would like to work with me in a project; better known as the writing partnership. I met him today. Turns out, he’s Peruvian, an engineer, and an inventor—but he hates the process of writing. English was his worst subject, apparently. However, he’s been sitting on this story idea (which is pretty interesting but needs a lot of organizing) for 15 years. He’s had a couple of tragedies in his life which have enabled him to reach out, in search for a potential writing partner. These tragedies have given him a new perspective in life, and he’s also started working on other projects in order to find a way to support his endeavors as an entrepreneur/inventor.

I met him through a mutual friend.

I agreed to write down notes of our discussion, but of course—being the cautious one that I am (and having friends who in the past have been screw*d over)—I told him that I would write 1-3 pages of a sample from the outline he provided. I told him he was to review the sample, and if he liked my work that we could continue working together. He has promised, if published, a certain cut of the deal.

Here’s my dilemna. I am paranoid because I trust anyone who laughs at my jokes. I know, stupid right? But it’s true. I can say that much about myself. I’ve consulted a few people, and they tell me to go by the life rule: CYOA — “COVER YOUR OWN ASS.” ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† I’ve only been published in a Berkeley journal. I’ve never really been paid for writing. I have no idea how this works! Does ANYONE out there have any advice?

Is there a good website?
Can someone recommend a place where I can find a solid contract? One I can mock a draft after?
Someone also told me to keep a journal of our discussion. Yikes. Maybe I’m being too paranoid.

How do I go about the professional logistics of a writing partnership without insulting the person who has provided an outlined story? He doesn’t want to write it, he just gave me an outline with a lot of information — BUT I would be the one developing the character, conflict, obstacle —etc. etc. etc.

Help!

Sincerely,

LM