Have you ever had that feeling where you know everything you're saying makes perfect sense, it's just being said to the wrong person, and therefore you suddenly feel out of place? I had that feeling today. I might as well have been green, had alien eyes, and a gigantic freakin' huge alien head, because everything I said was coming out Martian.
Yeah, I've been busy. I haven't blogged in a few days. It happens when I go into Lawyer Mode. For what seems like an age I worked on that proposal for my television show to more adequately explain the whole idea to Dean. I met with him for lunch today at one of my favorite restaurants - Sweetwater Tavern. We had a lovely lunch, the root beer was fabulous, and everything was fine. But I think I scared him with my proposal. He's never really seen me get into Lawyer Mode. Few people have, actually, cause, well, I think I'm kind of scary. I don't mean to be, but when their eyes go kind of wide and they scurry away, that's kind of a sure sign that they're scared of something.
Well. I explained it. I still think it's a great idea. I still have my whole heart invested in it. But Dean's not convinced. He said he'd read the edited version of the story and think about it, but I really don't think he'll come around. He didn't seem to grasp that whole picture that I was trying to paint. It's not just a TV show anymore, it's an endeavor. I hate to say it, but it's a franchise. I know, I know, to me that should be an evil word after what "franchise" did to my favorite book series. But this is a *good* franchise. The antithesis of Warner Brothers.
I think lunch today was just further proof that few people dream as big as I do. But, at the same time, I don't think my dreams are *that* outlandish because they are, in most cases, based in reality. The problem - at least, as I see it - is that other people can't seem to look at the whole big picture without being overwhelmed. To me, I see all of the little steps along the way, and I see how surmountable they are. But, in order for any of those little steps to have any true purpose, they must be steps in the right direction. And to have direction, you must see the big picture so you can plan everything out.
That’s exactly what I tried to do with this TV show idea. I was told to come up with a detailed storyline to base my show around. I believe I did that, my focus groups back me up on that, but I didn’t want to just leave it at that. What’s the point of throwing a TV show out there half-done? Take it all the way, mould it with enough franchising so that it fully fills a ready-made market.
My only problem is that’s a really hard sequence of events to convey over lunch. Furthermore, it’s impossible to transfer all of the beautiful, exciting ideas that I have swirling around in my head if I can’t even get past questions about who’s going to make the merchandise. I really wish someone would get to work on a mental USB hub. If only I could hook my brain up to someone else’s, download the appropriate files, and actually show them, it would make things *so* much easier.
I’m not about to give up on the show, though. No way. Too many people have gotten behind it 100% for me to give up now. I heard back from my focus group all throughout this week, helmed by Casey, that good friend of mine who’s a teacher in New Jersey. She had the kids in two of her classes read through the story that I wrote. Over 75% of the students in each class got really excited about it and said they’d watch it. They also were so intrigued by the idea that the children themselves, free from any instruction, started brainstorming ideas for the show. These are sixth and seventh graders – it’s downright impossible to get them excited about anything. And yet, with my idea, they took off with it and came up with some really brilliant, inspired stuff. Those kids are fantastic.
So. What happens next? First, I wait for Dean to come back with his answer. If somehow a miracle occurs and he’s suddenly excited about it, then that’s great and we can move from there. If, as I suspect, he’ll come back and say he can’t use it, then I know where I’ll take it. I have two options, both of which are promising. I don’t think I’ve seen the end of my television days. I’ve invested too much in it to give up now. The trick will be to find a situation where I won’t be speaking Martian. Once I’ve found that, I’ve found a place for this idea.
I’m half-tempted to post the idea up here on the blog, but I’m still slightly afraid someone could steal it, so I won’t. Unfortunately I can’t pull my Scary Lawyer Face over the internet too well, so I couldn’t scare off all those evil muse pirates. I’d still like some more feedback, though. If you’re at all familiar with children’s television and would be willing to read a four page story, please email me and tell me you’re game.
I haven’t lost heart, although I know it may sound like I have. Really, I’m just tired, and a little bothered by the fact that people see me as so strange and unlike any other “normal kid” that they tend to judge my ideas for other children’s projects too harshly. I don’t mean any one instance in particular; it happens a lot. Yeah, I know I’m weird, I know I’m not your average 18-year-old. I may have wanted to be Connie Chung when I was three; sure, I’ve been helming children’s organizations since the age of six; I know perfectly well that people laugh when I say ‘Da Bomb’ because it just doesn’t sound right. But you know what else? I still watch cartoons, I spend more time talking to 10 to 16 year olds than I do anyone else, and gee, did we forget that I’ve also been running a revolutionary children’s charity for the past four years? I may not be a “kid,” but I know them. I think I just grew up faster than normal, because I had to. Being as sick as I have been since the age of eleven, naturally anyone in my place would come out with the same weight to their step, the same thoughts that are a little more complicated than, “Oh, N*Sync is da bomb!”
Despite all of that, what really makes me laugh is that a lot of people call me “naïve.” I’ve heard that one a lot too. On the one hand, I’m seen as far more mature and out-of-touch with children. Then, that flip-flops into me somehow being naïve. That seems like a bit of an oxymoron to me. I think most of the accused naivety stems from the fact that I dress conservatively, I don’t swear, and I don’t surround myself with grit. If that’s naïve, then I really wish there were more naïve people in this world. I think we’d all be a lot happier if we weren’t constantly surrounded by the grime of the world. I know I am. If you question that, try it for a month. It’s not that hard – turn off HBO, instead watch some ridiculous clean television; turn off the hard music, replace it with anything that makes you smile and you don’t know why; stop swearing for just one month. I can guarantee you’ll be a happier person. Sure, some people say that’s just being “too sheltered.” You know what? We shelter ourselves from our own crap in the sewers – we know it’s awful down there, we know it smells. You don’t have to swim in it to know it’s full of crap. It’s the same with anything else. I know perfectly well that the world is sometimes a dark, scary, disgusting place, but I refuse to be a part of it. Furthermore, I’m not going to perpetuate it. Instead, I’m going to try my best to make it a rosier, less crap-filled place for everyone else. What’s wrong with that?
Wow. That got ranty. I’ve had a lot on my mind today. Heck, a lot on my mind all week as I’ve worked on this TV show. Things were really brought to a head when I got the second wave of results from Casey’s classroom. This arts show, the main point of it was to illustrate that art isn’t just painting or sculpture. It’s anything that man can create to make this world a rosier, less crap-filled place. I knew I’d gotten it right when Casey told me that the kids – entirely on their own – grasped this concept and came up with one of the most beautiful examples of art imaginable, something outside the realm of what one normally thinks of when they think about “art.” They wanted to see an episode about Anne Frank’s diary, because it illustrated writing as a historically significant art form. Seventh graders came up with that. Don’t you think they want it? Don’t you think they understand? That’s why I’m so passionate about this project now. There’s nothing else out there like it. It encompasses everything I’ve wanted to do with my life. It will be made.
There I go again. My mind has been moving a mile a minute lately. It actually kind of hurts. My mind got tired of not being able to do anything during that massive two-week-long headache, and now that the headache has subsided slightly, it’s just making up for lost time. Only problem is, all this thinking is really sending me through a roller coaster. I really need to get this brainstem problem under control. I’ve got an appointment to go see yet another specialist. Let me tell you, if this one says the same thing about me being a waste of their precious time, I think I may just flip. At least I managed to garnish one saving grace after that last horrific neurology appointment – I found a bottle of vicodin that one of the Gap Model Doctors had given me during my second visit to the emergency room. I had – no big surprise – forgotten all about it. Apparently I buried it in some cabinet because, at the time, it wouldn’t do a thing to my headache. That was post-concussive, so there was more pain floating around besides just the whole pressure-on-the-brainstem thing. At the time, percocet at least knocked me out so I could sleep through it. I can’t say that vicodin’s doing a great job, but at least it helps when things get really bad. I hate it, though. I hate getting that look from those rude doctors when I tell them I’m on a narcotic. The last time I went the witch actually gave me a lecture about how dangerous narcotics are and I shouldn’t just take them like candy. All I had said was that they were prescribed and I only used about 25 pills in the space of three months. Maybe she’s just some health nut, but I’ve never known anyone who eats candy that slowly.
Anyway. I’m getting babbly again. Why? Because I haven’t gotten much sleep. I was up until four o’clock in the morning yesterday getting ready for my meeting. On top of that, I woke up early yesterday too. I had to wake up at 9 in the morning in order to shovel a butt-load of snow off the driveway and part of the cul-de-sac, so that at 11:30 my brother and I could head off to the metro station. We went all the way into uptown DC so that we could see the extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring on the big screen. I may be sore, I may be tired, my muscles may be in a bind, but it was so worth it. That screen was HUGE, the sound system was phenomenal, and it was great to see all the extended scenes in the movie like that. Next Friday we’re doing it all over again to see Two Towers, and I can’t wait.
I’m still sore from shoveling all that snow. Of course, being silly, the night before the snow hit I also went to the gym. Ha ha. So, I did an hour’s worth of weight training, then the following morning shoveled snow. I think I’ve fulfilled my weekly goal for exercise, don’t you? Although, surprisingly, I’m not as sore as I thought I would be, considering I haven’t been to the gym in a month. I can still walk, so I’m taking that as a good sign. But, I was tired enough today to take an impromptu nap. I never nap. Anyone who knows me can vouch for that fact. Never, unless I’m really sick, do I take naps. And yet at 4:30 this afternoon I crashed on the couch and was out until 7:30. I think the combination of working out so much, the cold weather, and all that rapid-fire thinking really wore me out. That, or I’m really sick and I don’t know it yet. Oh boy.
Okay, enough. I’m calling it quits now, this has gotten long enough. I’ll fill you in tomorrow on the latest regarding Good Omens and all that jazz. Good night!
