Ladies, come out of the closet.

It is true that there are very few female filmmakers around the world. And if I was capable enough to conduct a research on "why" I would. But since I am not qualified enough for that I would just like to evaluate the possibilities of changing this.

Observations from film school:
1. Men don't discuss camera and technical aspects with women. At least not to the same extent as they do with male colleagues and neither with equal joy and exuberance.
2. Men would never trust a female DP.
3. There is ONE female DP in my entire class.
4. Men prioritize crewing for each others' projects.
5. Men collaborate with male colleagues and  "help" female colleagues.
6. Men respect female writers, men can't imagine to acknowledge a superior female director.
7. There are fewer female faculty members in Directing.
8. Men don't discuss the filmmaking potential of their female colleagues. Women always discuss the inspiring male filmmakers.
8. Men understand film equipment better. Period.

It is not a question of whether this is conscious or unconscious, on the part of the male filmmakers but it is what it is. Things have been like that for ages. It's a thought process, it's a way of life. But at some point, this has to change. And as women we have to stand up to break out of this pattern.

We need to give each other more credit for our accomplishments and less jealous criticism. We have to encourage and support other female filmmakers. It does not matter what is the caliber of filmmaking, the point is that we need a stronger female voice and that can only be achieved if more and more women come out of the closet and feel determined to express themselves in front of the world as filmmakers. We need to engage in constructive criticism, and work towards improvement. We have to be conscious in not shying away from expressing ourselves. We have to make a conscious effort to be there for each other, as artists, as friends, as competitors and begin a solid camaraderie which for some strange reason seems to be missing.

We will be great someday. Just not today.

There comes a time when we push past all the pettiness and try to achieve a state of calm. Except, when we are twenty something, being childish is the unconscious norm. We are struggling, we are fighting, living in a constant state of heady unrest. Loving it, hating it, dissatisfied with absolutely everything that is not "us". Selfish as hell, directionless and charging onto the goal of what we believe is "greatness". Nothing less would do for us. We're a bunch of thirsty predators. Love, hurt, games and politics, we are machiavelli's children. We're  blind, we're stubborn. We are trying to be great, we're dying to be great. What sets us apart is the abysmal desire within.

And if we can wriggle out of this bubble we live in, maybe one day we will be great. For now, we shall just remain a bunch of twenty somethings.

The giant gorge between ACT I and ACT II

The fear of the unknown is deeply inherent in all of us. ACT I was wonderful. It was clear, precise and a whole lot of fun. But suddenly everything has come to a standstill. ACT II is staring at me, in the face but there is a giant gorge between my last mark on ACT I and the other side/ACT II.

Chances are:
A. I may never get to the other side.
B. I may try but fall into the dark abyss.
C. Or make that one giant leap and get across.

The decision shall be made in exactly 10 mins (hopefully).
I set 2pm as my deadline.

How to stay happy, not drink and kill yourself?

Google can try but not make you happy. But at least Google tries.
Warm drinks versus cold ones. Cold, bitter ones. Bitter-sweet ones.
Alienating love from sex, sex from love...sense and sensibility from both.
Stuffing your face with food won't help. What would?
Yoga would not. A night out is temporary relief.
We're all on the edge, we may pop, we may drop.
Spill over and that's the end.
So the question still remains...how to stay happy, not drink and kill yourself.

In the mood for love...

And I would watch In the Mood for Love over and over again, because of Chris Doyle.

Happy Birthday

They had known each other for over six years. The first two was friendship. The next one was obsessive love and sex. The fourth was a disaster. The fifth and sixth...were different for both.

So it was her twenty sixth birthday. She was drinking cocktails and eating hash brownies. At the stroke of midnight she kissed a stranger, vowed her love for him and forgot when she kissed her girl friend.

So right after the party noises faded out. She signed in to facebook. Her page was flooded with birthday wishes. Boring. They are said the same thing.

And then somewhere hidden between the zillion other "Happy Birthdays" was one that read - "Happy Birthday Bitch. Hope you receive a much needed pounding tonight." She stared at it for a while. She thought it was the daze. But then her girl friend read it out aloud. She shut up immediate.

What did she do then? Well. She  moved her fingers delicately over the awesome keys of her macbook. She typed - Thank you.

Worthless pondering

As I drank my morning coffee, pretty much around noon, I remembered last night's dream. It was horrible, it was torture. Even just to think about what I saw. Last night in my dream I saw I had cancer.

I wonder where that came from? I wonder if I am falling into some sort of self loathing hell? Where no amount of laundry can clean the disease that is proliferating inside you.

God know why this happened but I remember loosing strands of my hair. I saw my father shocked, scared, saying that it's because of my smoking. But what's the point, I had smoked all I could and nothing could be done now. I had cancer.

And i guess it's true when they say that you'd never understand unless you got it. What do I say, a dream is as real as it gets.

So where are we right now? Is this the dream or is the dream the real world? What is our real state of existence?

Working on my Schizophrenia project, I wondered, if we were all Schizophrenics. If what we call normal is abnormal and "their" world more real than we potentially believe it to be.

Are we living a myth. The myth of life, created by God knows who? So if that is the case then why worry, why be so tensed when it's all going to be over and maybe then you and I will finally be in the real world.

The real world that is better or worse. For joys or for disappointment. Why are we killing ourselves every minute when we all know that one day we shall die.

What can we do to live? How to live? No one taught us this. No one knows about this. Why is death so scary when we don't even know what it is to live.

I don't know. I wonder. I wonder if this is going anywhere? Yet I want to see things through. Why? Why not just be satisfied with these incomplete fragments. It's like a puzzle that no one can assemble. So why try?

Will there ever be any answers. Will there ever be a point when we will have what we want? Who can tell? Who knows? I guess no one.