This is how I like to remember my mom.
I know how most people remember my mom. Smart. Tough. That’s probably the two words people say the most. “Your mom was intense, she was amazing, she was tough, she pushed me, she challenged me, she was strong, she was basically a bad ass.”
And all of those things are absolutely true.
She was also completely hysterical. She was goofy (as evidenced by the face she’s making with Harry.) She was a great drinker, a lover of scotch and full bodied red wines. Cooking with my mom meant opening a bottle of something. After a long day I do what my mom used to do: change my clothes, pour myself a glass of wine.
My mom had the worst sense of storytelling I’ve ever seen in a brilliant writer. She’d tell you a story about getting the ceiling fans replaced by this amazing lesbian couple and it would seriously sound like she had a point. It sounded like there was a payoff. But she never had one.
She got hit on a lot. She smoked cigarettes for a lot longer than she told my dad, once telling me that it helped deflect men hitting on her on airplanes. She fought loud and she fought dirty – she always had a line you just couldn’t believe, like she secretly had Tennessee Williams writing retorts for your argument over curfew extensions.
But mostly she was an original. I hear about people seeing their mom or dad in other people and I still haven’t had that happen. My mom even told me she once followed a man she saw driving down the highway, driving after him for 30 miles or so, because she was convinced it was her dead father. I haven’t had that.
She died two years ago tomorrow. And it is better than it was last year. Better than the year it happened. It isn’t acute. But what never goes away is how much I want to talk to her and how devastating it is when I realize I can’t call. I never want to call to complain. Or almost never. I just want to call to talk, to make a joke, to hear a joke, to hear a long rambling story. There’s a secret Bernice, one that almost nobody ever met. One that my sister and dad and I were privileged to know and love.
I don’t miss the tough mom, the warrior mom, the one who turned her disease into a one woman crusade. I miss the one who used to sing “Islands In The Stream” and make fun of Daniel Shore’s denture problems and who taught me how to make a well-timed eye-roll.
I’ve spent some time on this blog and on other blogs yelling at the old guard for not understanding the new forms of independent filmmaking.
This speech by Tom Bernard from SPC is absolutely right on. Smart, helpful, empowering, incisive. This is what you need to read. Right now.
I could honestly quote the whole thing, but it is worth reading and absorbing on your own time. Understanding the business is your job if you plan on getting your movie to an audience. That doesn’t mean you’re a slave to the business of film. It just means you have to understand and conquer it.
I just deactivated my account.
I’m giving myself a month, Facebook free. Why? A bunch of reasons. It’s very public, it has no privacy and it is very time-consuming are the big three. But also I get the sense that the Facebook party may be winding down and I like to leave a party before it ends. Social networking is great and Twitter is perfect for me. I can post pictures on Flickr. I can post rambling, profanity laced missives on my blog. I do not need to share every detail of my life with 400 friends. I do not need to have 400 friends to prove things to. I do not need to play Scrabble day in and day out to prove I have a good vocabulary.
Of course in reality I may just be the needy, horrible person who needs to see every picture my sister posts on-line of my nephew. I may need to follow everything everyone does on Facebook. What about the first pre-sale for a show I miss? What about that great video every sees before me?
Can I deal with potentially slightly behind the curve? Will Twitter and a blog and Geekweek be enough?
I hope so.
So, Daria is being released as a box set. For those of you who don’t know who she is here she is being Daria:
Now, I loved Daria. Seriously obsessed. She was me. I was her. We were the same. But they have taken out all the original awesome 90’s music and replaced it with non-awesome music. Half the reason I watched Daria was to see how they used L7 or Fiona Apple or REM songs. Instead they have new music because the old music would “cost too much.”
If Glee can cover sixteen songs in an episode and the music industry is currently having the economic woes they claim to be having, I don’t believe it. I think this was just a “we can charge $45 and keep $40 instead of charging $45 and keeping $30” decision by MTV. Which is their right.
It is also my right to say hell no. Because Daria without the music is like Frozen Embryos without Tino. Just Residue.
Check out my interview with Keven and Phil who made this awesome movie called The Dungeon Masters… along with some other fantastic producers.
It sort of depends on your definition of decade. But since we celebrated Y2K in December of 1999, I think we can just call this a new decade.
What does that mean?
Changes my friend.
I’m writing at Geekweek, a new site. And this little blog will hopefully be a production (pre-production) blog for my new movie in the next month or so.