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First day of the 30 day shred. Not going to lie, it kicked my ass.

I had to pause the dvd several times, once because someone rang the doorbell, and twice to desperately gulp down water and catch my breath because OH MY GOD I'M DYING. My heart was racing all through cardio, which I guess is the point, but it was super uncomfortable. I think the jumping jacks were the worst, simply because I have huge boobs and jumping isn't very pleasant, even with them strapped into a sports bra. The end bicycle crunch was also a killer. I want to get my mom in on it, since she is also trying to lose weight, but she's kind of lazy. I don't think she could get through the video without tons of pausing.

After, I took a cold, cold shower and marveled as my legs quaked. Maybe one of the best showers I've ever taken in my life. When I submerged my face it was like Jesus materialized behind me and whispered into my ear, told me he spends all his days in heaven smoking pot and making hardcore gay fetish porn. It was that sweet.

I'm quite proud of myself, now that I'm not sweaty and my heart isn't beating a hundred miles per hour. I did the whole thing! With limited stopping! The shower made me feel significantly better, so right now the plan is to do the shred before class. This means waking up 20 minutes earlier, which makes me sadface, but whatever. I'll get over it.

Also, I dressed my dog up like a turtle.



He was not as excited about it as I was.

Alright, so right now I'm taking a film class. My first screenplay assignment is due Thursday, the first three pages of an original shooting script. This is what I have so far.

Ignore incorrect formatting,it unformatted when I copy/pasted :(



The overhead light flickers once, twice, illuminating a messy bathroom. The counter is scattered with miscellaneous typical "girl" things- a massive flat iron, multiple boldly pigmented palettes of eyeshadow, bottles of viscous beige foundation and concealer. The medicine cabinet hangs ajar over the stained porcelain sink. On the opposite wall, the shower curtain (garishly bright and patterned with various cartoon MOVIE MONSTERS) is thrown to the side carelessly.

BIRD'S EYE: a figure enters.

The figure ambles in sleepily, closing the door gently behind it. It's wearing an oversize white shirt and unisex pajama pants- androgynous but vaguely masculine. It limps toward the sink.

OVER THE SHOULDER: the figure opens the medicine cabinet, revealing dozens of bottles of prescription pills.

CLOSE UP: The camera pans over the mini militia of bottles- an army of orange and white soldiers battling for the noble cause of good mental health, all prescribed to WENDAC, DANIEL M.- as the figure's hand seeks out a particular bottle, index finger ghosting over labels.

Finally the hand pauses- the focus sharpens on the label. It simply reads: DAILY SUPPLEMENT in big block letters. In tiny script below the dosage information, an ominous warning: MAY CAUSE EXTREME GASTROINTESTINAL DISCOMFORT. The hand retracts with the bottle.

OVER THE SHOULDER: the figure shuts the cabinet door revealing a streaked mirror on the opposite side.

Reflected in the mirror is a grotesque man with a pallid, green-tinged complexion. There are alabaster scars stretching from his temple to the corner of his lip. His skin has a rough, slightly decayed texture, and broken capillaries form a pattern of lakes and rivers running wild across his cheekbones. His pupils are dilated to differing degrees and his irises are an unnatural, washed out blue. He resembles a post-apocalyptic, Hunky Dory era David Bowie.

The man, Daniel Wendac, pops the cap off of the bottle and shakes out one enormous red pill. He observes it, grimaces, and pops it into his mouth. Reaching to retrieve a glass from counter, he fills it with water and in one swift motion, knocks it back. He angles his head to coax the pill down his throat.

MEDIUM CLOSE UP: profile shot of daniel, the door out of focus in the background.

Daniel pulls and prods his face experimentally, narrowing his eyes at his reflection before combing through his dark hair with his fingers. As he styles his fringe, the door opens. The woman slumped in the door frame remains unfocused.

     WOMAN

It's 7:30, I've got to get out of here. Breakfast is on the table. Don't be late again.

The woman vacates the frame, leaving the door open behind her. Daniel's gaze returns to the mirror. He gives one last valiant effort to salvage his hairstyle before turning and exiting the room. As he crosses the threshold, he flips the light off and the screen goes black.
 

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December 2009

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