Daddy's Girl

So my dad has been calling with more frequency.

I spent 45 minutes talking to him on Friday. I hate to prematurely say that a change is coming about, and maybe he is actually taking a paternal role in our relationship, instead of the friend one...but needless to say it's a little strange.

He said he was proud of me.
He said that his only hope for me is that i am completely happy with my life.
And that the happiest times of his life were when we were all together.
That he knew he messed up, and wasn't there...but that we have a lifetime more of catching up.
All he wants is for me to be happy.

I had to say i was totally touched by the whole thing. And though i'm not use to getting all these phone calls from him, i'm happy that he is taking an interest, and that he is proud of me. I realize that i don't say "I love you" first, in conversations. Even with my mom, i do the whole "i love you too". Like saying the words are so hard. Love. For little words that can drive you completely insane. I have to get use to saying it more. I have get use to a lot of things more.

I look at my brother and see how he is wasting his life away. He is so busy partying it away, that it is quickly passing him by. I just realized today that i will be 20 in march. ME 20? And this idea that i am watching from the sidelines is scary, that before i know it, i will be the weird old lady with 100 cats and a bottle of whishey in my dresser, wondering what the hell happen.

I don't want to be that lady, thinking of would of, could of, should of. In the end, don't we all just be happy. I mean whatever that is to us...and though it's creeping up on me slowly, i can't wait to be in that place, where can truly say that i am happy. Of course i have to make the first steps. The hardest ones to make.

Yesterday i arrived promptly at the film thing at 9:00. The producer called on Thursday b/c i had not let him know if i could make it to the set, so instead of it being at 8, it was at 9. Hardest thing i had to do was roll out of bed, and make my way down on the other side of campus to decorate for a movie that everyone agrees is really bad. But my word is bond, and though New Jersey and Boston have stopped coming, i go to help out anyway.

Art Director is a perfectionist. A serious perfectionist. I know that they have no idea what to do with the weird Pre-med girl who has no idea about the production of movies, so i think they give me stupid jobs on purpose so i'm not in the way. 2 weeks ago i was taking pictures for continiuty, needless to say i'm not a photographer and that job is no longer mine. This week i was the Febreeze girl, and i sprayed the hell out of that place until it was smelling like roses. Art Director brought all of her personal things for the set. I mean we are using her couch, bed, sheets, tables, lamps, posters...you name it, we're using it, which is probably why she is so patricular about where everything goes. She brought in this old timey typewriter that she said she bought for $2 at some garage sale. But i notice people always downgrade the price of something really cool, so they don't look pretentious. The thing was like the first typerwriter ever it was so old. It came in the cool little case, with the metal keys. I was drawn to it instantly.

This shoot was different b/c we weren't shooting in the smelly studio, so we had to bring all the materials for the office scene, and the media scene to the Square(main part of campus, food, theatre, bookstore). Art Director was staying behind to set up for the bedroom scene. I didn't know what to do, she kept saying i could go with them, i kept saying i rather stay. The yo yo conversation continued, and i ending up staying. The set did look nice after...well i didn't do anywork. She told me where she wanted things to go, and then i put them there, and then she would fix what i had just done.

Art Director: I'm a perfectionist
Me: Really?

We roamed the halls finding stuff we could use to brighten up the set, and she mentioned that the Director and her were talking about me being a biology major

Art Director: Yeah Kyle(director) didn't know you were pre-med
Me: what do you mean
Art Director: well we were talking, and he thought you were some media art student
Me:[they were talking about me?] Yeah...i do what i can to help out here, but i can only stay for so long before i have to hit the books[or flip the remote on the tv, Whatever]
Art Director: It's a very honorable career
Me:[I guess] takes a lot of har work.

So i still don't say much to them. I laugh at their jokes, comment once in a while, and then i pick a corner to sit in while they are doing the real work and read. They keep wanting to read my stuff, but i don't know that them that well to give me work over to them, so they can massacre it and making it crappy. No thanks.

Walking down the hall we were immersed in all this art from students and famous people. She keep talking about it as if i was stupid, and new nothing about art. I nodded my head, and almost to an extent played stupid, so that awkward silence wouldn't be there. The producer came back to tell me that we were starting to shoot in a new location and to meet them up there, apparently the typewriter was going to be used in the shot, so i was more than eager to carry it the whole 15minute walk to the square. About half way there, the weight of the thing killed me. I nearly dropped it like 5 times. And then when i got there, hands extremely red and sore from my futile attempt at being he-man and running with the damn thing, i was more than disappointed when it wasn't even used in the set, and spent the rest of the day massaging my hands.

Watching the actors is like watching a really bad lifetime movie, except i can't find the controller and am pulling my hair out. We were in this huge meeting room, shooting an office scene. So unlike being on set, and in the control room, we were basically on set, and b/c it was an office room we sat in these comfortable seats that i was falling asleep in. You can tell when someone doens't like something b/c in a polite way they are like"Well...that was good...but maybe we can try it more with a sense of..."
just imagine that being said about 15 more times, and you can get a visual of my face as i was sitting there.

I wanted to jump up out of my seat and do the parts for them it was bad. But once again i just bit back the laughter. After that was lunch, but i got to leave b/c...well my job was done.I spent the rest of the day doing an 6 page paper i should have started a week ago, and then Marie called.

Marie was in a car with Jeff, and they were discussing something that apparently was so important she had to call me and ask me what TWAT meant. I have no idea what that word means, or why i should care what it means, or why on a Saturday night we are discussing words used to describe women in a negative fashion. So for the next 20 minutes she is talking about TWAT and if i have any idea what it is. I don't know why she calls for stupid things. It's like when someone does the drunk dialing, except they weren't drunk they were just high on inquiry. Then she put me on the phone with him. Like a mom who puts there non speaking kid on the phone and expects you to hold a conversation with him/her.Me: hey, so what are you guys talking about
Jeff: Um...you know...there was a dirty word that Marie didn't know was a dirty word
Me: Yeah...well i don't know
Jeff: [Awkward silence]Me: {awkward silence]Jeff: we thought it was funny
Me: i guess so, but i don't know what the word means.
JEff: I guess not a lot of people know what Twat means, i guess only a few people use it
Me: [could this get any worse] I guess so...
Jeff: well here's Marie
Me: Bye
Jeff: Bye

Why does she do this to me?

So i don't make friends easily. Doesn't mean that i want to be apart of her friends. Sooner or later, i'm going to have to do this on my own. Find friends and things that interest me. Not being lead by the hand, or forced into relationships with people i have no connections with. When did it become so hard to make friends. Why can't the "do you want to play" still be the opening line to lasting relationship. Now if you say that you might get mauled by some freaking dude who looks like a pimp. How knows.