Scriptin', driftin', cruisin', dreamin'

As you know, I'm no longer in the Neighbours story room. Very maturely, I've re-named a room in my home 'The Story Room'. So I can still say "Hmmm, I'm off to the story room!" and mean it. Such a little thing, but the difference it makes ...

What do I do in my story room? I write speculative scripts, which is truly the best fun in the universe (with clothes on)(note to self: try it without clothes on). One day this activity might even make me money - I CAN DREAM. For now I'm still trying to show Neighbours people that I have useful 'talent' (LOL) and shouldn't be forgotten like the 1,000,000 other trainees who strived for a TV career in the Erinsborough deus-sphere.

"I'm not dead yet!" I cry, despite being thrown on the cart.

In other news, I think Battlestar Galactica has just started screening season 4 in the USA. Damn you, Australian networks!

Facebook is interesting! Who'd a thunk it?

Buffy - The Long Way Home (aka season 8, episodes 1-5) is AWESOME! Are you a Buffy fan? And are you reading it? If not - good grief. Go to a comic store and buy it! This first story arc is written by Joss! This is the show! Profound.

Nothing But Red

Today is the day to remember Du'a Khalil. Please follow this link and hug a woman you love.

Lil' Trinkles

* Just found Amanda the Aspiring TV Writer thanks to Jane Espenson. As always, the net is full of yummy reading. I kinda imagined that this blog might cover my Neighbours experience the same way that Amanda dissects Hollywood, but ... it didn't. I couldn't be objective, therefore I couldn't really share anything useful. And as for the juicy ... maybe another day.
* Portsmouth FC are through to the FA Cup final, for the first time since 1939. I've almost completely forgotten about yesterday's Kangaroos/Hawks debacle.
* I've come across 2 references to Joan Crawford's real name being Lucille LeSueur in the last 24 hours. I never previously knew this. The third is gonna weird me out.

Sunk and countersunk

As you might've guessed, I finished my adventure in Erinsborough last week. I've now had seven days away from the heady world of network TV.

There's been tears. Sorrow. Tinges of despair. And, for a change, wailing.

I lie, I haven't cried once. It was all too weird this time around, and until I figure out an intellectual explanation the emotional disappointment isn't quite so cutting. It just remains a huge WTF hovering in my recent past.

The universe is being kind. Little lessons are appearing everywhere, providing an infrastructure of regrowth and evolution. I don't have a job yet, but I'm feeling better about the current abyss.

I'll try to write here more. The adventure gets good now.