A drunken musing on faith

Yo there be raaaain outside my window. I once blogged under the influence of ambien. tonight I am doing it under the influence of sonataaaaaaaa. bobobobobobwwwwwwwwwwwwwoo. Did you know that this is true? Life is incredibly profound, because life is narrative. People worship god because they need things to mean something. The fact of the matter is, things mean something whether we like it or not, though we cannot always gleanm, and there is certainly something under the fabric of existence that gives it this poignancy, but I don't know about this whole god thing. There are patterns. There is the rise and fall and the rise and fall and the rise. The great swell. In short, there is story. It is the only thing I can have unalienable faith in. I believe that I exist. I believe that the people around me exists. I even believe my imagination exists, but imaginarily so. God? What is god? I do not know what people are asking me when the ask me if I believe in god. If there is a god of my world, he would be the great storyteller, who's words for things are the things themselves, so perfect are his words. But I do not know that there is such a conciousness. I know only that there are stories and that I am in one.

On Anger and Spoiled

I'm not very good at anger. I never used to think of this as a problem, but now I am starting to wonder. I can rail against people very well when they are not present and I tend to speak my mind no matter the company (a failing and a virtue both), but when actually confronted with the source of my anger... well.
Part of the problem: Most of the time, the people who make me angry are people I love. I may want justice, but in the end I WANT to forgive the people I love. Life is really much nicer that way.
A note about the grudges I have held in my life, which are few but deep: they were a betrayal of love, in some form. If not love, at least trust, and I rarely trust with out at least some small measure of love. If not love, respect.
Hm.

I did a naughty thing today.
What did you do Carla?
Oh, now, I really shouldn't say...
Oh no, now you HAVE to tell...
Well, if you really want to know...
Out with it!
I threw a carton of spoiled milk out my window, which is, by the way, on the third story. In the middle of campus. If I were a properly behaved, responsible, and environmental person, I would simply have put it in the trash bin. Alas, it was not to be! Not only did I loathe the notion of having to carry the repugnant carton down the stairs and outside to the trash when I wasn't even wearing any pants yet, but the carton was... inflated. With some sort of gas, I think. There was only one course of action. I HAD to, don't you see? For SCIENCE.
So I flung it out the window. And you know what happened when it hit the ground? IT WENT BOOM. I mean it. There was an actual "BOOM" sound, a big one, as milk sprayed and spread across the grass in a deformed puddle that looked like nothing so much as the white blood of my enemies. I looked down triumphantly at the pathetic carton who had moments ago been so puffed up with pride and noxious gas. Victory was mine.

Late Night TV on the Internet

The title says it.

You know what world? I like TV. There, I said it. Er, wrote it. DECLARED it. I loves me some True Blood, Dexter, Carnivale, Firefly, Glee, Mad Men, Buffy, Samurai Jack, Lost, 30 Rock, Pushing Daisies, etc. When done properly, it gives me much of the fun of a novel and a movie at the same time. WIN. Alas, there is a great deal of shitty TV one must dig through to get to the good stuff.
My bane: reality tv. However, I am not above looking at pieces from So You Think You Can Dance on youtube. You know why? Cause they really CAN dance, and that is a mighty fine thing to see. It takes talent. Athletisism. Passion. It is actually ART. And it's shiny.
Shiny. I will not pretend that I just enjoy the narrative structure and writing and stuff in proper television. Let's be frank. The people on television are easy on the eyes, and they like making out with one another. The hopeless romantic and the terrible lecher in me are able to bond at times like this, and thus able to reconcile themselves with eachother.
SHINY.
What I want to do: popularize the miniseries. I think, when done properly, it is my favorite form of video storytelling. You have the oppurtiny for depth of a longer series as well as the elegance of a shorter story arch. It strikes the perfect balance. Also, it is the best format for adaptation. For example: we all acknowledge that properly adapting Watchmen into a movie was impossible. Why? Insufficient time to plumb the delicious depths of the story, its plot and characters. So, you need more time. What is the perfect solution? THE MINISERIES, THAT'S WHAT.
Examples of wonderful miniseries: Slings and Arrows, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, North and South, 10th Kingdom (ok, that was a little silly, but I enjoyed it). Basically, England and Canada are all over this. Now it's our turn.

Speaking of which, I cannot stop thinking about going to London. LondonLondonLondon. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

This may be the silliest thing I have written on this blog. No one reads it though, so I suppose it doesn't really matter. Unless, of course, Kailyn is still checking it. Are you reading this Kailyn? It's very silly.

In other news: I think watching me play Jerry this summer caused a shift in my father's view of my acting. He was supportive before and thought I was good. Now, he is super bummed that he can;t see my show and has said so repeatedly. He is excited to see my growth as an artist. He doesn't merely support my being an actor, he actively WANTS me to be one now, he is excited about it. I think I must be the luckiest girl in the world.

Also, when I bowed tonight: The audience got louder. For me. For ME. It was wonderful.

But I am not satisfied yet. I was good, but still nowhere close to as good as I can be. I to,d that to my Dad and he said, "Good. That's the way to be." His voice radiated pride. He is proud of me for being an actor.

I am being redundant now. Life is a very occupied space.