I'm alive.

Back in one piece from Stockholm, just a bit exhausted after being on social overdrive for two whole days. I told my brother on Thursday night that after this I'm entitled to at least a week's hibernation.. to which he laughed and said, nonsense, now you have to keep going like this. I take it he approves of this new and active me that gets stuff done and moves out of the confines of her living space and has pro-active interactions with other human beings.. which is fine, I can see the benefits of this, but it's just so tiring.



A recap of the weekend follows, if you're not interested you need not venture further...


I obviously didn't sleep the night before. I tried, mind you, but no such luck. I was too nervous. And those of you who know me and have seen me fret and panic over having to take one bus and meet with one person can only imagine because this weekend I lost count of the number of transportations I had to take and I had first the director guy to meet, then the four members of the jury at the dramatic institute, and then the woman who is renting out a room in her house and her spouse, and then the cute guy who is editing the director guy's previous film. So basically one encounter after another and barely a single moment to regroup in-between because the director went with me to the dramatic institute and waited for me while I was being interviewed so that we could keep talking on the way back afterwards, then I went to my brother's place and there were little human beings all around me, well there's two of them but kids have this ability to seem everywhere at once which makes it feel like they're more than they are... and then off to view the room and then back to my brother's place to crash and then barely time for breakfast (coffee) before meeting with the director guy again early next morning...

Okay I'm done venting. I'm sure none of that made sense to anyone...

This is what I wrote in the train to Stockholm:

What is my obsession with disappearing? I never felt like I really belonged anywhere, to any particular place, even these past couple of years when I found people I felt I belonged with and a lifestyle that made somewhat sense and felt like home, and made me want to stick around for a while even, still the place itself did nothing but repel me… and still, wherever I go, I feel like I’m stepping on sticky floors. It’s always an effort to keep moving forward, even though it’s the only alternative.

First things first. Meeting this director guy who could be a serial killer for all I knew... I met him. He bought me coffee. Odd bloke, but most probably not psychotic, merely bohemian... so that was all good. Then he gave me the script (what I and every film-interested person I know would have called an outline, obviously written by someone with no grasp of the swedish language and full of errors of the spelling and grammatical variety... but then again he was from Egypt so I let that slide...) to read while he went across the street to do something.. I read the monstrosity. And then spent five minutes thinking of ways to get out of this whole thing. Then five minutes telling myself I need both the work and the experience. Then five minutes asking myself if I was actually prepared to commit artistic prostitution so early on in my career? and then five minutes answering, yes, but... and then I started making changes in the script.

I know.

I couldn't help myself!

Anyways, when the guy came back I chose my words carefully (having learnt from the best, but mentioning no names... Ana.) and started suggesting away. At first he seemed less than pleased and started squirming. Then, once he put his ego and pride aside and actually started listening to me, he realized that I was actually suggesting ways to improve the story, not my own role in it, and then he became very interested...

And then I was made co-writer of the blasted thing.

Now this is good news, I realize that. But I find it hard enough to co-write with someone who is on the same page as I, but this guy is on the completely opposite end of the scale, we're talkign culture differences, gender differences, political differences, the whole spectrum. His objective with making this (sexistic, stereotype packed, soft core porno) film is to show how the culture in Europe, especially liberal countires like Sweden, have killed men's masculinity and maniless (his words, not my interpretention of them, I swear! -- my interpretation would be, things are to equal between the sexes in Europe, women don't know they place and men don't know how to control them and treat them the way they need to be treated... although he's actually used those words too, the only thing he didn't say was the word "equal", I'm thinking it's not part of his vocabulary...) I didn't say anything until he mentioned homosexuality and adoption, I swiftly let him no that I was of another opinion but there was no need for us to dicuss these things, we just needed to focus on the story and the film. He swiftly agreed. That was the end of that.

The interview at the Dramatic institute went alright... I think... Honestly, I don't know. They seemed kind of stunned all four of them. Like I was this disturbing puzzle they couldn't wrap their minds around. They hadn't got that the characters in my film were dead and woke up in the afterlife. When I told him the story in Tequila Rose their eyes grew two sizes and finally one guy asked, Exactly how many people die in your story? and a woman asked, Are we, the audience, supposed to sympatize with these characters or what is your intention? and then It's not a realistic, Swedish film is it?

Anyways, forty people were called to the interview, twelve will get into the program and I'll know if I'm one of them within a week.

The room was really cozy. The house was old and nice. The woman was not so old but nice as well. I said I liked it and I want to move in. She said feel free. So I'm moving on the first of July. She said not to worry about the rent before that, we'll take care of it once I'm settled in.

I'm just knackered right now. I don't know what to think about all of this. I'll get back to you in a week and let you know what my future looks like.