Sometimes, I get so caught up in the logistics and the stress of trying to be a 'filmmaker' that I forget about all the fun stuff. When that happens I watch movies or shorts that I love, or I go see something new in the hope that I'll have that moment when I nerd out about a great shot or an amazing edit.

I'm pretty sure my friends all hate when I do that. (sorry, guys)

I'm in script writing this semester, and while it really stresses me out because I've never done it before, the endless possibilities are really exciting. If I don't like the way something happened in real life, I can just write it into a script with a better ending. Or if someone else has a really great story, I can adapt it.

For instance, say you sort of accidentally publicly turned a guy down twice in the space of an hour. And say that you make things right and the next time the guy asks you out you don't reject him. In real life, you probably go out on a date or two with the guy and that's it. In a movie, you marry the guy and at the rehearsal dinner he mentions in a toast how you turned him down twice in front of people before accepting a date. And your friends and family laugh knowingly and smile at you and you pretend to be embarrassed. 

In real life, you go through a bad break up and it rocks your world in ways you never imagined. You take months to get over it and eventually move past the pain but spend a lot of time in sweats eating your feelings. In a movie, your depression takes away your appetite, you lose weight, end up getting a great new job and meeting the love of your life. Oh, and Judy Greer is your best friend.

That's where the good and bad comes in. The good: in a way, I can rewrite history. The bad: it doesn't change what actually happened.

Real life will never be like a movie.

Sometimes, I'm sure it's better. But when it's not...I highly recommend a rewrite.

Say what you will about John Mayer, but I love him. Seeing him live several years ago is still one of my favorite concert experiences.

As of two minutes ago, it is officially my birthday in Mountain Standard Time.

Happy birthday to me!

teeth. Warning: I'm about to talk AT LENGTH about my wisdom teeth. Since I missed a whole week of blogging because of them, it seemed fitting to write an update.

Let me take you back a few years ago, to when I was living in New York and my dentist said he wanted to take my wisdom teeth out in the next six months. I was fine with this. I had great dental insurance, and I had friends who could take care of me after surgery, and my mom was only two hours away in case I needed her. So, the time came for my next cleaning and I went in prepared to schedule oral surgery, since all four of my teeth were impacted. But this time, my dentist says that since my teeth haven't moved I should just wait it out. He said I could be 90 years old before they caused any problems, and as long as I wasn't having any pain, I was OK.

Fast forward to last week, and me spending four days doing little more than lying in bed with tears streaming down my cheeks because I'm was in so much pain. I could feel my teeth throbbing in my toes.

Yeah, that happened. Luckily, my parents live two hours earlier than I do, and on top of that they wake up insanely early, so calling them at 4am to cry was an option.

"Get thee to a dentist!" my father said.

Just kidding. He didn't say that. He said that tooth pain is legitimate and the doctor wouldn't laugh at me if I said I had a toothache. The doctor suggested the maximum dosage of Advil and lots of icing and rinsing with salt water. Doesn't that sound yummy?

Let's take a road trip for a moment...back in my senior year of high school I got really sick. With whooping cough. Because I am clearly living in the 1800s when people got whooping cough. It's actually pretty common, look it up.

Anyway, I was really sick. Like....couldn't sleep or breathe or eat or anything. Once when we were reminiscing about it my mother actually said the words "I thought we might lose you." So yeah. Sick. Not near death, but it's good to know my mom loves me. I had to use two different inhalers and take the most foul tasting cough syrup I've ever tasted. But after the first couple times I took that stuff, I looked forward to it. Because I knew that it would make me feel better and stop coughing so I could breathe and/or pass out.

That's what the salt water rinses became. As gross as they are, they are such a relief.

So I'm icing and rinsing with yummy warm salt water and taking Advil like it's my job. And it's not working. I give in and call the doctor again and she called in a prescription for Lortab, which I'd never taken. And hope to never take again. Yes, it stopped the pain, but it also left me so groggy and dizzy that I wasn't sure if it was worth it. Who am I kidding? It was worth it. The point is, I didn't feel right again until about 8 hours after I took the thing. I went to dinner with a friend and took exactly three bites of mashed potatoes before realizing that eating was a thing of the past on Lortab.

Well, after a mess of appointments with dentists and oral surgeons, I'm finally scheduled to have all four wisdom teeth extracted, as well as work done on the teeth adjacent that were damaged by them. Should be a reallllly fun time.

The good news? Harvey is flying out to take care of me for the weekend. I pretty much have the best parents ever. Don't even try to measure yours up to mine. They will always win. Know why? They're short, and therefore cuter than your parents. So on top of being awesome and wise and giving and loving and kind and hilarious and all those things, they are ADORABLE.

Listening to Joshua Radin reminds me of my first fall in New York. And making chocolate pumpkin cupcakes that I decorated with orange cream cheese frosting and candy corn. And the smell of leaves in Central Park while I waited for the bus in the morning. And possibility. And those are all things I'd like to be reminded of right now.

Remember how I talked about donating some friends like sweaters?

Well, I spoke to a dear friend recently (don't you love that I sometimes speak like an old lady?) and she suggested that some of the people in my life are less like ill-fitting clothing and more like a cancer that I need to excise.


I've never had surgery...but maybe it's time.

As weekends go...this one wasn't my best. There's no need to get into it right now. But a weird phenomenon that I've experienced a few times before recurred this weekend/today, and I felt the need to document it.

See, sometimes when I turn on the radio it knows how I'm feeling and plays a perfect set of songs. Like...perfect. It knows what I need. And this weekend, I apparently needed to hear "I Will Survive"...both the original Diana Ross version and the Cake cover. Three times.

It's not really a message I'm ready to here, but I appreciate that the radio is trying.

That's right, I'm posting Demi Levato. Don't judge.

Please be good to me.