I couldn’t resist.

Also…

Write on.

They say that when you start going after what’s in your heart the universe helps you out God starts opening doors. Or at least, a window or two.

One of my dreams has always been to become a screenwriter. I’ve wanted this since high school, ever since I tried to send Gene Roddenberry an idea for TNG. I remember clearly, I wrote him a letter on lined paper. In response, I got a letter back from an office at Paramount. They told me that they only considered concepts that came properly formatted, and even then, with a release form.

To this day, I still read snippets about the fallout from last year’s writers’ strike. Yet I distinctly remember one that took place when I was much younger. I found it really eye-opening. For the first time, it occurred to me that actors didn’t just magically will themselves to emit the dialogue that came out of their mouths. Somewhere in the background, at least one person was responsible for every single word that they said.

Fast forward to 2009, and I still want to be one of those people.

Back in the day, I figured out how to configure Word’s tabs and margins to replicate official screenplay format. My sole project based on characters that were completely my own came in university when I worked on the first 30 pages of a still-unfinished script.

As recently as last year, I tried to replicate that same formatting magic. But my computer laughed at my efforts. I let my dream die. Or at least, I tried to.

Since then, I’ve bought a new computer. And I’ve discovered that my dreams are every bit as vibrant as they once were.

Sometime last week I downloaded a demo version of Final Draft. This program is, apparently, the industry standard. I can’t afford to buy the normal version yet, but I figured if I started saving up some money, perhaps I could get a copy in the new year.

Meanwhile, a couple of nights ago I started writing. Longhand. Two summaries, two paragraphs. I then took one of these ideas further and expanded it into a set of crazy notes—character sketches, witty dialogue snippets. I’m DYING to get to the scene-by-scene outline. While I won’t get into the details, I will say that there’s a story that I’ve had with me for a couple of years now. If I don’t at least try to do something with it, I’ll burst.

The other day something within told me to stop messing around. Now…For all my fellow wannabe writers out there, I should point out that Final Draft’s demo will only let you save a maximum of 15 pages. If all goes well, I’ll have an outline of My Brilliant Idea ready to go by next week. Once that happens and I start putting some meat on my story’s bones, I’m sure that if I have to stop at 15 pages, I’ll become undone.

I was mulling this over, when it came to me.

What about Celtx, Claire?

Ahhhhh, yes. Celtx. (Pronounced KEL-tx.)

Celtx is script writing software, that, from all accounts, is every bit as good as Final Draft.

And it’s free.

A part of me me used to hesitate when I visited Celtx’s URL. Maybe it was the “free” label. You know that old superstition: Something that’s free can’t possibly be any good.

I told myself this knowing full well that if I think about it, I could probably come up with a list of freeware programs that have rocked my world.

Yesterday morning I dropped my pride. I clicked my way over to the Celtx site, and downloaded their program. It does, indeed, seem to have everything I need.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But something tells me it’s gonna be good.

“MONSTROSITY!” *nom, nom, nom*

Oh man.

I miss being a kid.

Just FYI, Trekkahs.

Canadians can cast votes for the People’s Choice Awards. (Check the forthcoming URL. It says “cdn”.)

Would you believe that Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto are in the same category?

I kid you not.

A part of me started to lean towards Chris because of his talented turn as Captain Kirk.

But then I felt the pull of ZQ.

That photo is not mine. I found it here.

*sigh*

What’s a fangirl to do?

ETA: I might abstain. If I vote for one without the other, it’s highly likely that the guilt will plague me for days.

Why am I jealous…

…of this doll?

Maybe ’cause I almost was her–hairwise–a few short months ago.

Check out one of her friends.

Gorgeous, eh?

*sigh*

*walks away* I can’t believe a doll–A DOLL, of all things!!!–is making me wistful.

Have mercy.

HT – Custom DREDS for your Fashion Doll

Hair, you are.

I cut my hair yesterday.* It was insane. I’d bought clippers at least a month ago from Walmart.

I tried my best to be patient. I took my time and made sure I had enough new hair so that when I cut it, I wouldn’t be completely bald.

(I have a friend who’s been scalp-baringly short before. And gorgeous, to boot. I, on the other hand, just didn’t have the nerve.)

Prior to yesterday’s shenanigans, my last major hair move came in September.

I’d gotten my hair straightened, on a whim. I was bored. And lazy. And, quite frankly, trying to play it safe. (Stupid reasons, I know.)

Mind you, I enjoyed my new look. For about a month. Afterwards, I started to resent a few things.

1. The upkeep. Say what you will about wet-setting or air-drying. At first, I was convinced that the only way I could get my hair satisfactorily strait was if I did hard time under a dryer.

And even after I mellowed and decided to do without the dryer, I wasn’t content. Which brings me to my next point.

2. Straight hair isn’t me. It’s not my natural texture. I rediscovered myself nearly a decade ago. Since then, I’ve found what God gave me incredibly irresistible.

*start the time machine for My Hair Story*

When I was about 24, I was in Toronto. Pretending to study something I’ve never ever used IT.

My hair was texturized. (For those not in the know, that means I used to put a relaxer in my hair, but not let it get super-straight.) However, I hadn’t had a touch-up in a while. My natural hair was growing in, and the time had come to take care of business.

I decided to get my roots done at a fancy-schmantzy salon. I remember my consultation very well. After admonishing me about the evils of doing one’s hair at home, the stylist made one thing very clear to me.

My hair was damaged. Overprocessed. It had to be cut off before anything else could be done with it.

HAD TO.

At first I was terrified. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t have hair. Did we really have to go that route?

Yes, Claire. You HAVE TO.

And so I made an appointment. For an overpriced buzz cut.

At first I was nervous about how I would look. I remember, I asked the stylist to leave a little fringe at the front. Some bangs, if you will.

I ended up looking like a plucked chicken, and wound up changing my mind.

By the end of it all I looked…Pretty much like how I appear in the photo below.

It was the first time in who knows how long since I’d had my own unaltered hair to deal with.

I was enthralled.

*steps away from the time machine*

In the intervening years, I’ve fallen into a pattern where I let my hair grow out, then decide to alter it chemically. And then, disgusted, I cut it off again. The cycle seems to be about two years long. As I get older, I realize that the madness must end.

After thinking I wanted dreads, and trying to cultivate them for several months, I changed my mind. One day, very recently, I thought about re-twisting my loose hair–for a temporary ‘do. But I didn’t follow through because I didn’t have any patience.

Plus, I’d left Toronto and returned to my hometown. A place that isn’t as multicultural as the big city. My resolve started to weaken as I thought about blending in.

In hindsight, I realize that I wasn’t meant to blend in.

*sigh*

I did some research and read up on a woman who said she decided to go back to straightening her hair because–among other things–it made her look older.

I could stand to look older, I thought.

(Mind you, when I told myself this, I ignored an important fact. Genetics being what they are, I’m probably going to have this face until I’m 40+.)

Anywho. One day, I took the plunge. I even opted for a (supposedly harmless) relaxer. I did my best to make myself feel less guilty.

And it worked. For a while. I actually enjoyed myself until I started resenting spending an hour under the dryer every week. Not to mention missing what The Good Lord gave me.

Fast forward to yesterday, at Heaven-knows-what in the afternoon. (Or was it the morning? At that point, I’m not kidding when I say there was no time for me. Only “Get this &%# off my head!”) I was fed up. I knew The Day had come. First, I put my hair into four braids. Then, I clipped off the end of said braids–about an inch. I took one look at myself and said “Who do you think you’re kidding?”

I went to the bathroom and hunkered down with my clippers and a pair of scissors…Snip, snip, snip, quickly became chop, chop, chop, and then finally, buzz, buzz, buzzzzzzzzzz.

And there you have it.

Here’s hoping I don’t do this to myself again. Both the chemicals and the cut. I like having big hair. Fortunately, any sadness that I might feel is being held at bay by the following mantra, “It’ll grow back!”

And indeed, it will.

*Just to clarify re length, because I have a couple of different pics of me up on the web: Prior to my cut, my hair was long. Not bouncin’-down-my-back long. More like at-shoulders-but-above-bra-strap long.

Heeeeere Trekkie, Trekkie….

I have the DVD. Two disks. No complaints.

This video pretty much summed up the reaction I had. In my head, I mean.

(HT – Space: No Uglies)

As for the next film, do you remember this post?

At the end, I wrote the director a note.

Dear J. J.

I want another Trek. By no later than 2012, OR ELSE.

Bless you…

Well.

Even though I was teasing when I typed, it looks like I was onto something. In this interview, Mr. Abrams says

I believe the next Star Trek film will be in 2012.

So if the world doesn’t come to an end (HA!), at least I’ll have some Trek to keep me warm.

ETA: Another Space: No Uglies find. Just because.

The stolen post.

How am I doing these days?

Lisa’s blog entry from a l’il while ago pretty much sums it up. In my case, all that cartoon needs is a few yawning faces and more bed-rest pics.

For some reason this fall I thought I’d have tons of time to write and delve into side projects. Instead, God is letting me know that I ought to be patient.

I’m taking a course and I’m behind because I’ve been sick.

No H1N1, thank Jesus.

Still. As my instructor reminded me the other day, I have “three more weeks” and then it’ll be all over.

Must. Focus…

Are you ready for Advent?

For some reason Vimeo videos won’t embed in WordPress. (Boo, WordPress!) But you can follow *THIS LINK* to see what my church has in store this year.

The best part–apart from Jesus, of course–is, IMO, the ending.

Kevin: “…it’s gonna be good.”

Cyril: “As good as his moustache.”

That lack of pretense and humour is a part of what first drew me to FreeChurch.

*nostalgic sigh*

God bless and good night.

Random religious thought.

My mind is rife with thoughts based on Romans 14. (I’m sure other passages could apply as well.) The following is directed every bit at myself as it is at others…

When you make fun of a particular church or trend, what are you really after? Is the subject of your mockery truly causing others harm? If the criticism is warranted, can it be done intelligently and with respect?

What virtue is there in insulting another part of The Body?