dreams

I was riding the metro today at 1 pm to go to the train station and get the bag of food my parents had sent me from home. It was sad, both ways there were two different sets of beggars who had signs saying " Starving. Please help." They were usually very small children accompanied by thier mother or an older sibling. They looked desperate but my suspicios, culturally formed reflex was to ask myself if they were putting on an act or really in need. I mean, it was obvious they were in need but the other question was, are they part of someone's gang who makes all of them go around and beg and give them most of the money. People gave 30 c, some chips. People do give, which is good to know. They probably still despise the beggars because most of them are gypsy, but they still lend a hand. Maybe not all is lost.

NYC, Chelsea, June 2004

toilets

I am a big fan of toilets. Honestly, I wish I had a camera with me each time I discovered a brilliant design in a restaurant or a hotel. Some of them are genuine pieces of art as the owners tried to make the eating/drinking experience more exciting and rewarding in general. One of the most amazing toilets I've seen was in an Indian restaurant in Soho, London. It had a mirror and smoke thing about it mixed with an Indian touch of Orientalism.
I remember the sink clearly as it was a continuous common channel, like a cow troughbut inventively stylish. The problem was with pressure. The faucets were a deranged sort of squirting wells and the woman next to me managed to soak me head to toe not once but two times while trying to wash her hand. By mere chance, she was completely unharmed. But I do remember that one toilet among the many others I have been in awe of.
Now, the work toilets are another story.
I worked in a building off Wall Street for a while and even then, when we opened the bathroom window to air out, there was a strange dude in an opposite skyscraper who happened to be staring in your direction at that exact same moment. I even heard a story in that office ( that was full of weirdos, by the way) that they saw a guy from the opposite building peeing from a very high floor on the passers by. The wonders of NYC! The next two jobs I had were for documentary film companies. One was on Upper West side and dwelled in a brownstone and its bathrooms were small and uninteresting. I always thought the tub was a bit creepy as there may have been someone behind the shower curtain that I can assuredly say was useless as no one takes baths at their office. There was a nice award for a documentary as paper support on the sink which I quite liked. The director had enough statues anyway.
The other place was somewhere in Soho and although the office was nice and charmingly laid out allowing us to talk incessantly through the day instead of doing our work, the bathrooms were outside and you needed to get a key and prop the main door so you didn't have to be buzzed in. Charming!
Ok, so I moved back to Romania after this. And here comes the episode with me stuck in the bathroom. This building I was working in was beautiful. Still is.Built in a very specific gaudiesque/surrealistic style. The toilet wasn't fancy on the inside but it was clean. They had just changed the locks that day as apparently the older ones were not working properly any more.
The janitor comes in and tells me the accountant, who I was sharing the office with during that movie, was stuck in the bathroom. And that I should come and translate her isntructions in English so she can get out. Well, long story short, the Irish lady comes out red-faced. I was like "The thing is so simple. How could you get locked in?"
Next day, I need to use the facilities. I take my phone with me as the producer doesn't care I have physiological needs when he wants to get hold of me. I get in, and I pull the lock all the way left like I never do, because generally I am paranoid I will get stuck in, like I did in a nightclub once. When I try to get out, the thing wouldn't move. I pull harder and harder. My mom, who was supposed to meet me outside to give me some food ( I am still fed by my parents when they come into town) before she went to the train station, calls me. Where are you? It's 4, I am downstairs in the reception area. Um, Mom, I am stuck in the bathroom. Can you please ask the receptionist to send the janitor up to get me out? Floor 2A. The janitor, a very impressive woman, who's the queen of the castle around that building, comes in a matter of seconds and starts telling me to push it a bit up and then right. I and do.And as embarassed as I am, I can't open it. She had to push down the door to get me out. I even became famous on the higher level because the owner of the company wouldn't believe he had to pay for another door repair in the same bathroom. But trust me, that lock was a killer!
Now I am working in a building that's from communist era. The hallway on my floor is 600 feet long, at least. I work in the middle of everything so going to HR on one end, or going to financial department on the other end is a trip in itself. What I discovered is that there are four different toilets along those hallways. One used to be for guests of the studio, but now in use for the mortals. Another one looks like has been hybernating since the 1980's and the other two are clean and normal looking by standards but they always lack toilet paper...
I still don't lock the door, even though I've been walked on by a Chinese professor when I was in college.
God, I love toilets!Other people's.

new job

So I noticed that after coming back to my homecountry there has been a lot of interest in what I have previously done and it opened many doors for me. They all think it's great I've been educated abroad. I guess it says a lot about our education system.
So yesterday I went to an interview for a publicist job. Never done the real thing before, just had a short stint as an intern for Comedy Central. And they just clamoured for me althought I told them I have written press releases long ago and I kinda got unused to doing it. Cause you know, it gets very rusty after a while. The team was young and nice and the studios were so far away. But, although they pressed me for an answer last night during a communication presentation I agreed to go on with the lot of them, I refused to give a straight answer till today. And today they tell me I am going to interview with the biggest boss. Don't get me wrong, this is the biggest film studio here so it would be a great job to do. I am just scared as I always am before starting something I haven't done before. I am afraid of corporate, of contracts, of bindings, of promises. That's my only qualm. That and the unnervingly long commute. Wish me luck!

So I read this blog

It was Mimi's blog from New York. It makes me curious about the end of the whole thing. I gave up and left but she's still kicking. You go girl!

My umbrella

Happy New Year!

The blog's been a bit sparse since October, or better said, non-existent. I've just been busy not being busy anymore. Second movie done in November, I took off to the States to see boyfriend. Wonderful three weeks passed as fast as a nice coffee conversation with a friend would pass. Then I threw myself back into the hands of fate when I lived with my parents during the holidays. I know, the darkest time of the year. Of course they think I am too skinny and almost force-spoon fed me with all sorts of fattening Romanian Christmas things. My personal favorite is the mayo boeuf salad. But that aside, I also spent an obscenely boring New Year in the mountains with a bunch of strangers and my aunt, uncle and an equally traumatised cousin. Bless her, she was my only joy in the midst of the 12-bed room.
Alas, but I am back in the capital now looking for translations. Yeah, book translations. No one seems to want my interview with famous Danish actor, well, maybe because I only proposed it to one magazine but that's irrelevant.
Will keep posted with stories from set on next movie. Or maybe if I go out and pass out, I will share with you anyway, cause drunk with friends is as fun as humiliated by cast and crew. Wish me luck, sweeties!

coffee

So it's 4 am on a Saturday morning and what am I doing? Right, writingfor this blog. Why? Because I am at work. You heard me right. They are shooting nights and I am stuc at the office and, ironically enough, I have to be thankful for being here and not outside where it's cold and nasty. This coffee did wonders for me. Anyway, where were we?
Last night I was at the office as well. And amongst other things, I watched " Madagascar" cause, let's face it, I cannot solve any problems that pertain to my activity - production- from the office at 2 am. Maybe I was debilitated by this week's change of schedule but I freaking enjoyed this little film for kids. Maybe all this says is that night shi(f)ts reduce my brain to the capacity of that of a pre-schooler. Moving along now. I hate entertaining this kind of thoughts.
The feature is about 4 friends from the New York zoo( Bronx???)that get thrown in the middle of the jungle in the aftermath of an attempted escape to the wild ( Connecticut) by the zebra character. So the zebra, the lion,the hippo and the hypochondriac giraffe, who was my favourite, are sent from the New York zoo, where they were some sort of stars, to Kenya, ona ship that is hijacked by the psychotic penguins from the same zoo. So they end up on the island of Madagascar, where they meet the raver, techno pumpers and, I believe, magic mushroom lovers, the lemurs and their rather useless king, Julien. The main conflict stems from the fact that Marty wants to be free but Alex, the lion, his best friend, wants to stay in the limelight and the pampered life that the zoo has to offer. In the end, Alex becomes something he's not prepared to be, that is, a carnivore.

lazy

This has not been updated in 3 months.
So guess what? Am working on a new film that I think has great potential to be released and distributed and maybe actually get some festival awards. It all depends how the editing will be as the shot footage is just amazing. It's called, um I don't think I can reveal that but it's about radioactivity and mafia. Anyway, I am working even longer hours than the previous gig and this has been the first full weekend I had off.
What do you think I did today? Went shopping. Well, did not do shopping but I looked for a bit. Enter tights/stockings store where I basically mentally acquired at least 70 % of its merchandise. Then went to see a movie and crazily enough, I enjoyed it despite a gang of morons who were talking loudly behind me and my roommate and pushing agains our chairs repeatedly.
We went to see " Wedding Crashers." Not the most emotionally fulfilling cinema piece but amusing enough to counteract the depression taking over me at this point on a Sunday afternoon. Owen Wilson was raaaaaaaaugh throughout the whole film because I fancy weird noses and blond guys. Ask my boyfriend! Putting that aside, the one-liners were catching and the wedding extravagantza just lifted up the spirits in the theatre. Since I long dreamed of being a wedding crasher for the sake of free food and entertainment, this film was positive encouragement to me.
The plot goes like that: John and Jeremy, best friends, associates, bachelors and partners in crime are expert at crashing weddings, having the sole purpose of getting laid with eager bridesmaids or sexy unmarried cousins. They don't discriminate based on religion or ethnicity and their enthusiasm convinces even the old aunt who knows everyone that they are part of the family " uncle Ned's kids." They are so charming that is very hard for the public to dislike them or even disaprove of their behavior.
The turning point comes at the biggest wedding of the season, tresurer Charney's daughter's wedding, where the two blokes meet the other rich sisters. The whack-job crazy one goes after Vaughn's character, Jeremy, and the down-to-earth chick ( Rachel McAdams) goes after Owen's and the entire wedding turns into a struggle of the two men. John is trying to get the girl and Jeremy wants to run away from Gloria who behaves like a straight-out-of-boarding school clingy woman.

Just got tired. Will continue

when the going gets tough

I am sitting here on a Saturday afternoon to evening wondering how I ended up doing that. I am working. Actually. I am at work listening to outrageous demands from a boss that possibly still smokes pot at 59.
Let me tell you something kids. If you likes movies, don't get yourselves involved in their making no matter what. This constant rhythm of 6 days a week for 10-12 hours, lucky me I am not on the set, just spoils it, spoils all the charm. Because now, ironically enough, I don't even have time to shave my legs or cook a normal meal, or go out and buy presents, new clothes, or just something nice. Not to mention, I am barely in the mood for watching movies when I get home to my roommate who has her work stories to tell me whether I like it or not.
No summer vacation for me for the first time. No nada.
But this movie is a funny little thing. The star is making a fuss about being on the set thus the schedule changes every week and I just go insane looking through all the contracts and making sure we are not going over. God, that sounds gripping. Just reading my own words makes me want to fall asleep and have a nice dream that will distract me from life.
War of the worlds distracted me for a bit. Ok, so now you will say I was lying before. Yes, I did go see it but just because some friends from the crew invited me and they paid for it.
What is up with Spielberg and aliens? Dude, we know there are out there but really, do you have to spend so much money on this?
My advice is: be film critics not film makers. Much more entertaining and fulfilling.

flo

In fact it's not Flo and Mo in the pic. We had just bought a few pounds, or kilos, for the non-Anglo-Saxon people, of second-hand clothing and accessories. The result is visibly risible. My mom actually thought I had a ciggie in the hand. It's a pen, mom! Although you did find that pack of Pall Malls in my bag.
Val's headscarf is the one that cracks me up. She looks like that cartoon, the classy goose. And I just look plain "Absolutely Fabulous." What college kids do when they are done with homework! Or more like, when they are procrastinating...
Those days are gone. I am at the office 12 hours a day and I barely acknowledge the existence of life, human life forms and social activities. Bah, I will make the movie of the century in a few decades, kids. A French drama. That was always my dream. Or a British period piece. I am very Merchant Ivory when it comes down to it. And a friend once told me that I exude a Helena Bonham-Carteresque air. Can you see it? Behind the shaddy clothing and the gaping mouth, there is an aristocratic smoker.

dark bouquet
courtesy crissa

two lovelies flo and mo
courtesy crissa

changes

So here it is. Change. I knew it was a good thing coming back home. More things happened here in two weeks than they have in nine months in New York.
I am working on a foreign film, for foreigners and starring a big name. Well, it used to be big during my puberty when all the action movies were in fashion. Never thought I'd be doing this, particularly since I haven't watched many of his movies. Actually there was one film they kept on broadcasting on Rai Uno ten years ago. The one with a little red haired girl being kidnapped by someone. And he gets it on with her mother, who's his bother's widow or his best friend's widow. Or maybe she was just a single mother.

Talking about saucier stuff, cause he's expired if you ask me, I saw Star Wars: the revenge of the Sith. So, Hayden turns into Darth Vader, our favourite, bronchitic villain ever to chop heads with a strong flashlight. Although the fanboys claim he cannot act his way out of a bag, I can definitely say he can act his way to my pelvis. I had a few flashes of heat while he was being bad bad bad. But now we can all understand why he was soooo bad bad bad. He had half of his limbs chopped by his friend, he had burned badly and he had killed his wife somewhere on the path to saving her from death. Ain't that upsetting? I would just probably be depressed and would eat ice cream all the time. I figure you can't eat solid food through that mask. Which reminds me of a boy who was in my screenwriting class at college and who fell off his bike on his face and had to wear a wax support in his mouth and drink his liquid meals through a straw he had stuck in a hole in the wax thingy. Scary.
Which reminds me, my friends and I used to have a "favourite" we called Darth Vader. She dressed in black coats, and did all sorts of villainy things. Where is thi spost going ? I have no clue. Like often. After 12 hours at the office who has a clue? Maybe Angela Lansbury? Or Alicia Silverstone. Nah, nevermind.

working in Romania

So I failed to write the past three weeks or so because there is no high-speed internet at home. Honestly, I felt nothing when my Alitalia place took off from JFK, maybe a tremendous and tremendously hidden fear that I won't really feel at home back home. I have forgotten what it's like to live in developing country and I never made a living here, I never worked for someone, except my own expoitative family ( just joking, trying to contribute to my mother's small business is not by far exploitation on her part).
So here I was in the middle of Easter, one of the holiest orthodox holidays, in my uncle's car through the holes of transition. I felt diffrently the minute we landed in Milano; a bunch of obvious Romanians invaded the atmosphere. No matter where they go, they have this quality of making everything look aggravating. Maybe it's just my perception. I really do love my people but sometimes they just seem made out of a rough stone. To put it mildly. They get the shiniest, cleanest, wackiest clothes and accessories when they step out of a plane in Bucharest so they impress the potential audience. But inside, within, nothing is changed. It's hard to change after a certain age, indeed, and I suppose it will take at least one more generation to have more occidental people.
Fast forward 2 weeks. I am at work, it's 10 pm and I am still at work waiting for a producer to come and tell me about what I have to do tomorrow. I don't really know why I have to stay so long really. Useless. So, not-so-funny gal found a job. Not just any job but something she thought she always wanted to do. Ehey. Production. So more than smoking, drinking coffees and cokes and some occasional Garronne, there is not much going on here in the afternoon. Well, the basic activity is talking on the phone and finding items for shoots. Research. Some sort of journlistic research. It was exciting, today I almost posed in a journalist at press department at the Ministry of the Environment. I say almost because at the end when the guy who actually seemed nice and helpful asked me who I was and where I worked, I couldn't help telling him the truth.
The biggest story so far is a monkey I've been looking for since yesterday. Are there no primates in this city? Well, I guess a wee bee too many to count for one.
I wish I could go to bed now. But I am still at work. Advertising is hard children. Like the inscription on the gate of hell in Dante's Inferno " You who pass these gates leave behind all hope." Or smth like that

leaving States

No, it's not a mistake. I just like it like that. Indeed I shall be more diligent with this blog since I decided to write in it my transition to my old life in Romania. I studied and lived in the US for the past five years and the lack of a work visa sponsor prevents me from staying any longer. With the visa expiring soon, money running out, me absolutely desolated with the market place in New York fucking City, I am saying my goodbyes and packing my stuff and off I am to Romania. Yes, a lovely country where there are actually no vampires but a lot of gymnasts. Just kidding. We are all poets and geniuses. Tortured artists and misunderstood souls. Touching...

I am volunteering my last days of New York at Tribeca Film Festival. It's a great event, I have to admit, very well organized and very good for my self-esteem that has been badly injured in the conflict with the American empolyer. I am useful, I feel good, I feel knowledgeable and I get to do what I like. Not paid, as usual, but it's a good shabam. Or shabang? It doesn't matter.
So I was looking at the buildings of Tribeca and Battery Park tonight when coming out of a French film and I was thinking I will miss this city. You'll say," Oh, but that goes without saying, how can you not miss New York?" Well, when you have a lousy time in the loneliest city in the world, you can't actually say you love it wholeheartedly. I refuse to be a snob and pretend I adore it just because it's a must for the intellectual. My heart lies somewhere else. You'll find out where in a few years.

Sin City

a megalomaniac creation of a friend of Trantino's, I am tempted to copy and paste the review I gave Kill Bill. However, this brilliantly shot film inspired its vision from a comic book, whereas the atrocities in Quentin's obnoxious offspring were derived from his presumptions about what the public will dig. No I stand corrected, he thought that no matter what he does, it will applauded and bowed to.
Later note:after seeing it the second time with my persistent boyfriend, I changed my mind about it. The voice over that was scratching my brain the first time went almost unnoticed the second time. The action took over the words....

epilogue (uk spelling)

Aha, this blog was stubborn in not letting me post through Opera. And I just thought it was bad luck and bad karma with technology.
I am going back home and it will be a huge change in pace and atmosphere for me. New York is sinking back hopelessly right now; when things started to get better, when the sun shows itself like a kind of mercy between the scrapers, when people are prettier then before, I have to leave.
If it wasn't for the streak of bad luck with finding a company to sponsor me for a visa, prbably I would have stayed longer. And then a bit longer. And more. I would have ended up like I promised myself I wouldn't. Wrapped in fabrics, accessories, blind to hardship, a bit too arrogant for motherland, numbed on the inside by the taste of GE tomatoes.
I'm beginning to question my decision to leave, although it's the only leal alternative. It will be a ride. I was getting bored here anyway. Said the fox about the grapes....
I am working on a project right now. I am transcribing a film to script.Whoever said it's easy to be a production assistant. I disklike the word assistant. It's so servile. Why, after doing what professors said all these years, we have to jump into the job market to the bottomless pit under someone's shoes? When I will be far away from the country, I will write about my previous job.

hello

just hello