Profit.

It’s called “Forever Alone.”

It’s going to be a series of web shorts. I’m hoping to shoot a few within the coming months.

Party.

However, due to some requests, I will soon be updating this as a blog cataloging the cliched experiences of a young, struggling screenwriter.

It will be witty. It will be heartbreaking. And it will be read by about 3 people.

Soon.

He announced an idea earlier about doing away with the Cal Grant system, which provides aid to low-income students throughout the state. I receive a Cal-grant, about $8,000 worth of money each year. Without this money, financing my education would be more difficult, leaving me to rely on large loans that I would be forced to pay back slowly over the next 20 years of so (I want to write, so let’s face, student loans will get a minimum payment).

I only have a year left of eligibility, but that’s $8,000 that i don’t want to part with.

And this is all because of a mismanaged budget. No one could have foreseen the vast troubles the state faces now, but I can’t help but feel that the state is partially pawning off its current debt onto us students; we lose the money, and take out loans that must be paid back later, while the state closes its budget gap and continues on its way.

I don’t know the ins and outs well enough right now to say if there is a better place for the government to cut its spending, but forcing kids from affording college cannot be the right path to follow. Its implications in terms of its impact on education will be drastic in the least, perhaps catastrophic.

I don’t have enough time to push through a coherent thought or solution, so right now I’ll live with anger.

Arnold, NOOO! (In my best Arnold impression).

It’s refreshing to see a new cartoon that critiques the absurd habits of any social group. While South Park lambasts everything under the sun, this show relies on a refined wit with a sharp focus, and I really appreciated its nuances in looking at the new “green” family (even their dog is vegan. Awesome detail).

After having been upset that no new good TV was on, it appears that I stand corrected. I’ll be checking in with the Good Family; let’s just hope the joke doesn’t grow tired too quickly.

My favorite TV shows are no longer on.

My nights during the school year, mainly from January to May, are scheduled around trying to fit in time for homework in order to watch the few shows I truly enjoy.

Monday- “24″ (if time, “House”)

Wednesday- “Lost” (The best show on TV)

Thursday- “The Office” and “30 Rock”

Saturday- “Saturday Night Live”

Now that these shows have wrapped up for the season, I’ll be left with a hole in my daily life. Yes, I’ll have more free time to go out and enjoy the sunshine for once, but without school, how much time do I need? Isn’t summer supposed to be about being lazy? And isn’t TV the ultimate proclamation of laziness?

That’s why I vote that TV shows run further into the summer; I don’t want to have to watch TNT’s poor excuse for TV, marked by their “We Know Drama” slogan and promotions for Steven Boccho’s (what has this guy done?) shows. Give me something good to watch. 

I promise I won’t grow disinterested.

Or not. I guess baseball is always on.

I say, beware of naps.

They seem appealing, a refuge in the hectic day where you can your thoughts and recenter your energy. But these results rarely come about. More often, you wake up from the hour and a half nap (that was only supposed to be an hour) both groggy and stupefied, angry that you cannot sleep longer.

These feelings won’t pass. You will stay groggy, trying to bring your level of consciousness back up to that of a functioning individual; good luck with that; good luck eating a tasteless dinner in a haze while some obscure TV channel plays in the background because you’re too drained to even think about finding the remote.

You may finally feel the effects of the nap around 10 PM, when your body has finally recognized your efforts at rejuvenation. But by then it’s too late. The day is over, and you’ve accomplished nothing of value. Worse yet, you’ll try to go to bed at midnight but find yourself unable to because–gasp!–you aren’t tired. By the time you doze off at 3 in the morning you’ve locked yourself into a vicious cycle that only extended weekend sleep can help alleviate. Just hope that it’s not Monday.

Naps ruin afternoons. Naps ruin weeks. Naps ruin weekends. Naps ruin lives.

Think more of an angry couple, glaring at each other while one draws a series of squiggly lines and the other yells, “What the Hell are you doing!?”

The word being drawn: Thimble

Saturday night; a friend says, “Let’s play Pictionary!” My friend Fox and I grumble. We know how it will end up. Somebody will probably cry, and somebody (read: me) will definitely be stuck sleeping on the couch for the night after a particular outburst over a failed attempt at drawing Georgia (“It’s a Peach! You idiot!).

Here’s why Pictionary is dangerous. It takes a skill that not many are proficient in, and forces them to perform it under pressure in a set time. The words to be drawn are often obscure. And all of this is compounded by people’s board game competitiveness. We all hate losing a game that we play because there’s nothing else to do. There exists no bigger waste of time than losing at a board game. We only play to stoke our egos, so losing is not an option.

So on Saturday, when I recognized the impending trainwreck of emotion coming my way, I did the adult thing–I acted like a little child.

“I don’t wanna play.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t wanna.”

And off I strolled to bed, alone and content.

First, we need to do away with the myth of 10%. That amount simply doesn’t cut it anymore,especially given the economy. Providing a decent service tip ought to be considered beforehand into the price of the meal, so if you cannot afford to tip well for the nice meal and service provided, then please, go to McDonalds or something akin.

Here’s what servers consider proper protocol:

15%- The bare minimum. We provided you with a mediocre service, and you did not thoroughly enjoy your experience because of something we failed to do (mistook order, failed to refill drinks in a reasonable time, etc.).

17-18%-The average. We met your expectations, providing you a good meal with little or no problems.

20%- The Great Server. We were above average in the service department, helping with your meal, anticipating drink needs or dining needs; perhaps we made a good recommendation or provided you with an insider’s tip on how to save money (ordering a special instead of full-priced item, or something along those lines).

25% and beyond- The Super-Server. We read your mind on all your needs. We were exceedingly friendly and prompt with service. We saved your choking mother-in-law. You get the picture.

If you have a super-server, I recommend telling the manager. We get rewarded for providing such service (usually with free meals) and, since we are fickle beings, we like to feel appreciated.

Along those lines, if a server is doing well, tell them so. And if you tell them, be sure to tip accordingly.

10% is only acceptable if the server is rude, unprepared, or seriously lacking in the service department (forgetting drinks, missing orders,etc). Even then, exercise caution. We consider 10% to be an insult, sometimes against our work skills, but other times against our integrity and self-respect. We know when we gave bad service, and we know when you are simply being a prick.

We remember the bad tippers. We remember rude customers. We note you, avoid you, scorn you.

We are everywhere.

I just got back from No Doubt’s first tour since 2004, and it was spectacular. I forgot how great that band was, and how closely their sound really tied into the typical So-Cal kid’s childhood (them, Sublime, and Blink-182). 

The band Paramore opened the show and, although their lead singer has been pegged as the new, pop-punk Gwen Stefani, she has a long way to go catch up with the best frontwoman in all of music. Stefani, pushing 40, played with an amazing energy. In fact, the whole band just seemed happy to be on stage, which is nice to see for once, since most reunion shows are overpriced, one-offs where the band looks like their playing to support alimony payments and drug habits.

But the real fun came after the show, with the fiasco that was the Cricket Amphitheater parking lot. Why, in the year 2009, when the US has elected its first Black President, and put a man on the moon, that people still cannot figure out the proper way to leave a crowded lot?

It’s rather simple: let someone go, then you go, then the person behind you lets someone go, then they go. It’s a pretty elementary flow, but people cannot figure it out. People cut people off, and then the victims retaliate by forcing their way in to a spot that isn’t theirs. Soon, all hell breaks loose; guys in lifted trucks are giving me the finger for ignoring their curb and small bush hopping venture into the line and denying their right to cut me off; drunken tailgaters are almost hit by cars and subsequently give a “Woooooowwwwwwwww Bro! Watch Out!” And worst of all, people’s cars get bumped, dented, or scratched.

I live 25 minutes from Chula Vista; it took me an hour and a half to get home at 1 in the morning. 

Maybe I should draft a flow chart.