Okay So--

I was talking to a friend last night about my recent interest in religion, science, and politics. I was sort of dumbfounded at how this interest had seemed to take hold over night. He had the theory, (as the same thing happened to him last year), that once we were out of school, it was fun and work. Now that we've learned that balance, our minds are seeking more enlightenment.

Hence, this sudden interest. Anyway, if you're not into this, I understand. (Skip down to the best friends post I just refound and finally posted!) I hope this isn't overkill but I have one more thing to post tonight and then I'm done.



This is from HBO's Documentary entitled, "Friends of God: A Road Trip With Alexandra Pelosi"

The estimated 50 to 80 million evangelical Christians living in America today have become a formidable force in our culture and democracy. But the evangelical movement is a big tent. To try and get a better understanding of the range and diversity of this community, intrepid filmmaker Alexandra Pelosi hit the road to meet some evangelicals and learn about what their influence may mean for the future of the country.

I must quote "Friends" on this one:

PHOEBE: That's fine. Go ahead and scoff. You know, there're a lot of things that I don't believe in, but that doesn't mean they're not true.

JOEY: Such as?

PHOEBE: Like crop circles, or the Bermuda triangle, or evolution?

ROSS: Whoa, whoa, whoa. What, you don't, uh, you don't believe in evolution?

PHOEBE: Nah. Not really.

ROSS: You don't believe in evolution?

PHOEBE: I don't know, it's just, you know...monkeys, Darwin, you know, it's a, it's a nice story, I just think it's a little too easy.

ROSS: Too easy? Too...The process of every living thing on this planet evolving over millions of years from single-celled organisms, too easy?

PHOEBE: Yeah, I just don't buy it.

ROSS: Uh, excuse me. Evolution is not for you to buy, Phoebe. Evolution is scientific fact, like, like, like the air we breathe, like gravity.

PHOEBE: Ok, don't get me started on gravity.

ROSS: You uh, you don't believe in gravity?

PHOEBE: Well, it's not so much that you know, like I don't believe in it, you know, it's just...I don't know, lately I get the feeling that I'm not so much being pulled down as I am being pushed.

Yes, Excuse Me, I'm Very Important

There's some great feeling that comes with being important. Or people thinking you are, anyway. (Hey, it's the next best thing, right?)

Here I am, sitting across from a the real life version of Michel from Gilmore girls, in a building lobby of Beverly Hills, typing on my laptop as I open the door for people and check their names off of a list. I'm the mysterious person who looks important. My roommate is producing a movie, that hired me as the editor today, (woo?). They needed someone to let these actors in that are coming to audition for the part. It's not that I'm not being friendly, I am. It's just I have internet access and am bored out of my mind, so when I barely look at them, it's not because I'm being snotty, it's because I'm playing an intense game of Sudoku or reading some stories, or hey, writing a blog.

Now when these actors walk in, they look around like they are unsure of what to do next. That's when I speak up. I make sure they look at least a little confused before I do so, just to ensure they don't actually work in the building or something. When I ask them if they are here for the audition, they smile warmly towards me and gravitate my way.

Now, I believe in humanity for the most part. I'm sure that many of these people truly are interested in my day and hope that I'm doing well. But after while, all the niceness had me thinking. These people must think I'm powerful. They must think that I'm going to have some sort of say in their casting. Yesterday, I had multiple laughs at my not-so-funny jokes and one man called me a goddess for waving a piece of paper in front of a motion detector that would open the door for him to enter. Also for this motion, I was compared to the Fonze. For waving a piece of paper. (Let it be known I have stopped even looking at the door as I do this, let alone actually opening it for them.)

Maybe they feed off of each other. One person is nice, and everyone miscontrues it as me being very important. I've never had so many doors opened for me in my life. Some guy just gave me a rose. A rose.

So I'm not complaining here. I like feeling important. I don't mind that these people think I'm someone I'm not. Yes, I ask them their names, but I certainly am not marking down points for how many times they make me feel like a princess. Little do they know, I'm not all that important and will probably have nothing to do with the casting. For the better as it seems. ("He'd be perfect!" "Really? Why?" "Well he gave me a rose so....")

And then this woman walks in and I swear it's Sharon Osbourne. But I can't tell for sure and don't want to stare. And then she comes back and I look again. Still unsure, I decide that it had to of been her. It is only when this Michel wanna-be asks me if that was Sharon Osbourne do I feel like, yes, I saw my first celebrity in Los Angeles. He then mumbled something about her having an office here and I figure it had to be her! Woo! My first celebrity sighting and she was so nice! Or well, she smiled at me.

This casting thing has been an interesting experience. Just watching how the actors size each other up subtly. Looking at their competition. No one has even spoken to each other, this only being especially awkward early in the evening when the first four were told to wait in the lobby with me while they finished setting up. With two chairs and not a lot of room, it was quite a relief to finally get that phone call that said, "Send 'em up!"

Well I'm back to looking important. Only a little longer of this treatment and then I'm back to being unimportant minion walking the street.

Sweaty Goats and Tap Water

I love putting two things together in a sentence that is seemingly random and may even provoke some sort of knee-jerk reaction. I guess in this instance, you'd have to have a strong aversion of goats or tap water for that to be the case. This evening brought these two seemingly random statements together in an interesting way. One minute I'm sitting in my den watching Spiderman II, the next, I'm dressed up like a nun with a goat mask on.

Long story short, a filmmaker friend of mine decided to do some re-shoots on his movie, Rock and Roll Eulogy. If you venture to the website, that might be enough to explain exactly why I was a nun dressed with a goat's mask. (It's a exploitation film, somewhat similar to Reefer Madness in the sense of style and tone.)

Anyway, I said "sweaty goats" didn't I? The masks were hot, the suits were hot. A sweet cocktail further dehydrated my poor body. At one point I thought that maybe they would somehow have to work in why one of the nuns passes out for seemingly no reason. Alas, I survived. Hopefully I can finagle some pictures. To tide you over, here's one of me as Goody Girl #1, (one of my 3(!) roles, and yes, I'm proud).

My roommates and I are all separating ways within the next few weeks. Roomie #1 left today. She took her Brita with her. After exhausting all the ice trays, (which had been filled with filtered water), I was left to drench my shriveled insides with tap water. I'm not a water snob or anything, but I have a hard time rationalizing the consumption of foggy water, even if it does clear up after a minute or two of settling. Eck!