About why the Holocaust Conference was only worth 7 BTSA hours instead of 7.5 hours, what's going through my mind right now is this: I left my house before 6:00 am. I got to San Francisco at 8:15 in the morning and didn't leave until after 5:00. Also, I had to drive for more than three hours going and coming back. I had to pay fees and gas money getting there. I was gone all day away from my family and other work I needed to do. At this point, with the hours I'm doing this weekend, I'm going to have enough hours, (as long as she's letting me use the extra PD hours to make up for the network meeting. I still haven't heard back from her on that.,) but don't I deserve this silly .5 hours?
I guess what I'm trying to say is, it helps morale sometimes to get a little "cookie" here or there; a little acknowledgment that one has worked hard and gone above and beyond. I've learned that as a teacher this year. If I bend a little bit and give that student that small reward, or that extra point, or that extra chance at something, they will go that extra mile for me. I mean, it's their grade, but in my mind when they suceed, so do I. Similarly, I know thirty minutes doesn't seem like that much, really, in the grand scheme of things. But to me, if feels a bit like the grand canyon of no "cookies" right now.
One thing I've gained in this program is a better understanding of how my students feel when I give them work they don't want to do. Last year it was hard for me to relate to them and their complaints because my most recent time in school was while I was getting my Master's. I loved it! I love reading, writing, and getting to talk through topics with my peers. But, in BTSA I've been required to do work that seems (I'm being honest here) tedious, repetitive, and irrelevant,(i.e. drawing a picture of my classroom really stands out as a face in palm moment).
I see now why students cheat. I've wanted to cheat too, although I haven't. I've had to spend hours of family-time at Professional Development hours when I could have been mothering my child, lesson planning, grading, mopping the floor, or staring at the ceiling trying to recoup from the week. In truth, I've really, really resented this experience, and I've complained A LOT!!! (my family, co-workers, and friends all know all about it). It's sad
2 Comments on Give me a "Cookie", last added: 5/6/2012
Display Comments
Add a Comment
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 4/28/2012
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
Since my last "new home" post I've been busy decorating and still tying to make this new home mine. My heart starts to tingle a bit when I think of coming home now. I've decorated the long wall in my family room. I've also bought some new paint as the other paint I had was too bright and immature. I haven't painted yet but I'm looking forward to some time to do it in the coming weeks. I'll be off work for the summer in three weeks...three weeks!!!!!! Oh, my gosh. I'm going to miss my students tremendously. Especially the tenth graders I've had since last year. I teared up the other day when one of them mentioned that they won't get to see me every day anymore. :-(
What will I do with my time off??? Well, I'm going to spend lots of time with my little angel, Elise. Because she tends to have a rough start when she goes back after a long break, we will be working on school related stuff to keep her sharp for next year. I also plan to start the query process for my book, Polly, The Praying Mantis: A Bug, Bat, & Human Eco-Adventure. I'm also going to have a yard sale, and really, really, organize this house and all it's little parts.
Something of extreme importance that I want to do is start looking into my brother's death. Mitchell Reid Davis, died twenty years ago last month. We have no idea what happened to him; he was found in the early morning hours up on a tall train-tracks dune. He was cremated before an autopsy was done, and I want to know why. Yes, I know. A truly touchy subject. That's why my last posts were so cryptic. I feel like I can't say anything about Mitchell, like it has to stay a secret, and I'm sick of it. He deserves more than that.
Moving on to prettier subjects, here's my house in all it's glory.
Display Comments Add a Comment
What will I do with my time off??? Well, I'm going to spend lots of time with my little angel, Elise. Because she tends to have a rough start when she goes back after a long break, we will be working on school related stuff to keep her sharp for next year. I also plan to start the query process for my book, Polly, The Praying Mantis: A Bug, Bat, & Human Eco-Adventure. I'm also going to have a yard sale, and really, really, organize this house and all it's little parts.
Something of extreme importance that I want to do is start looking into my brother's death. Mitchell Reid Davis, died twenty years ago last month. We have no idea what happened to him; he was found in the early morning hours up on a tall train-tracks dune. He was cremated before an autopsy was done, and I want to know why. Yes, I know. A truly touchy subject. That's why my last posts were so cryptic. I feel like I can't say anything about Mitchell, like it has to stay a secret, and I'm sick of it. He deserves more than that.
Moving on to prettier subjects, here's my house in all it's glory.
 |
| Bent spoon tie-backs |
Display Comments Add a Comment
1 Comments on I can make it mine, last added: 5/1/2012
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 3/18/2012
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
This is a concrete poem. I wrote it while my dad was in the hospital back in 1999. I was at my Aunt Truth's house sitting cross legged on the leather couch with a view of her kitchen with it's many chickens tucked into nooks and crannies. I was, once again, struck by the beauty of my past. Not everything was "bad" then. That's the irony of the past, it's both good and bad in the most awkward of times. I remember seeing this mountain on trips to Anchorage with Mom and Joe. Depending on the time of year we would either be counting moose or rabbits on our way there. At school, I heard a legend about this mountain and it never left me. What a beautiful thing to see on your way to town.
Here she is:
 |
| Thank you to www.zenithair.com for the photo |
Here is my poem:
1999
In the Matanuska valleynear Anchorage, Alaska, lays a mountain that resembles a woman’s shape. Manylegends have been made about how she, who’s true name is Mt. Susitna, came tobe… and she is called:
Sleeping Lady Mountain
White
crystalline
sprinkled in
blue stone for-
ms your shapely
frame-a profile
seen for eons-
hair running
like an
angry ocean in
mid-thought-cooled
to the touch- while
you lay- daisies leave
yellow marks on your
cheeks
2 Comments on Because you asked for it..., last added: 3/19/2012
Display Comments
Add a Comment
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 3/17/2012
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
Here are some poems I wrote back when I was an undergrad.These are about my life.
TITTLE-TATTLE
Long lake limbs,
slim middle paraded,
wind strummed,
composed—grow effects.
Not all attached—
they stay
anyway. Drawn,
not for lack
of wingspan—
A comfort pillow
of crests,
jumping pads,
houses on
wheels anchored.
Toes crinkled
and wobbly, sustain
the deck for
white bread
floating kindly.
ALASKA
Alaska is the place where
Mitchell was still alive and puffing,
the paternal adults were
married, we all went to
church, the building of
crosses and glory, where the
house was big and
yellow like the flower who
resembles the sun,
and the snowflakes melt into
break-up and mud-
pies and dragonflies like little
bulldogs with green
wings, and flowers pop-up
through, into purple
hills with frogs and mosquitoes,
where the sun cowers
to the snowflakes falling like
starwars giving way to
moon-boots, not break-up
boots, the husky dog
with no tail, blue eyed—white
Diablo likes the mittens
and baby frostbites on my nose
while me-n-Joe slide down
on orange plastic, praying for
hot cocoa with some
marshmallows floating in the sky
on top of my valley
tucked away deep inside of Alaska...
AT AGE TWELVE
The last time
I was her:
I stepped down off
the bus and walked
into the blur
that lived there
with us growing
stock into Dad’s
brain as if it was
the Bible itself—
with its crammed
values jumbled like drugs.
Those sirens
hovering
on pebbles in our driveway,
waiting
to pluck our home
until rutted like clay,
pressed too hard
in the wrong flaw
to have let it
cure strong.
2 Comments on Poetry and Lies People Tell, last added: 3/18/2012
Display Comments
Add a Comment
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 2/5/2012
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Foreclosure, New home, first time home buyers, buyer's remorse, Fannie Mae, Add a tag
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Foreclosure, New home, first time home buyers, buyer's remorse, Fannie Mae, Add a tag
 |
| Me, Mom, and Joe in front of the green bean trailer |
I've wanted a house, a real house, one that's mine and fully attached to the ground since I could actually formulate a thought about it. When I was little, in Anchorage, we lived in a real house for a few years. It was yellow and had a basement, which I don't remember, and a nice family room/living room area that I still remember to this day, although we moved when I was about three years old.
After that we lived in a green bean trailer that my parents bought from some friends and it was plopped onto the five acres they bought in Wasilla, Alaska. Later, it was hauled miles away to Houston, Alaska, and backed into a shallow spot on the end of the road at the Far North Recovery Homestead on Heath Road. It had green shag carpet, dusty brown couches, and faux wood paneled walls, but it was a well-loved home. I actually burst into tears when I think about it. Partially because of all the memories of the people who walked that narrow hallway and sat around the heavily waxed kitchen table--some who I'll never be able to see again in this life--but also because leaving there was not done in the right way~~thanks, Dad :-(
My reason for reminiscing about this is that this year, John and I finally had the means to bring my/our dream to fruition. We bought a house.
Last May, I found out that I'd been hired to replace the English teacher at my Charter school. When I called John to scream the news into his ear, he told me that he'd just had a good feeling about it so he'd called B of A we'd just been pre-approved for a home loan. It seemed like a dream...
All summer, we walked around, home after home, looking for the one. Then, when we walked into this one, we fell in love.
The crazy brick work, the cool updated floors, and bathrooms, the openness of it...it seemed PERFECT!
John had to even go "activist" on them and call Fannie Mae CEO, whats-his-name, to get the house when the man working the file kept asking us to sign a strange agreement to accept our offer. We stressed, we cried, we worked hard and we got the house!!!
I'll never forget the moment when our Realtor Kathy Pylman handed me and Elise the keys. By the way, Elise was actually the one who helped us unlock the key holder thing when neither Kathy or I could figure it out.
She and I walked in, I clutched the keys to my chest, closed the door, and I closed my eyes and cried real, heartfelt, tears. Tears not only for the grown-woman me, who thought she'd never own her own home because she wasn't worthy, but more importantly, tears for that little-girl me who always wanted a real honest to goodness house. She deserved it. Elise deserves it. All three of us do.
 |
| This is all you need to smell great! |
And here's the kicker...I made it myself with stuff I already had in my pantry: Coconut oil, baking soda, corn starch and lavender oil. Not only is it cheaper overall, but I know what I'm putting on my body is safe and free of toxins like parabens, triclosan, and aluminum, to name a few.
Does it work, you ask? Yes, it works better than any deodorant I've ever tried (and I've tried them all). The coconut oil is a natural antibacterial, the baking soda absorbs odor, and the corn starch helps absorb wetness.
Does it smell good? Yes, it smells a bit like coconut and lavender. I've asked people to smell it and they all love it and ask for the recipe.
So, here you go: The basic recipe:
- 1/4 cup of Organic Coconut Oil
- 1/4 cup of Baking Soda (make sure it doesn't have aluminum in it)
- 1/4 cup of corn starch or arrowroot powder
- 3-6 drop essential oil
Here's when you can add the essential oil. (I like lavender)
 |
| Adding the oil to the dry mixture |
Then take a spoon and push the oil into the dry ingredients with a squashing motion.
0 Comments on Homemade deodorant: The best I've ever used as of 1/23/2011 3:05:00 PM
Add a Comment
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 1/8/2011
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
I was excited to see the article I submitted to Safer Chemicals Healthy Families published this week. 
" 
0 Comments on Safer Chemicals Healthy Families as of 1/1/1900
Add a Comment
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 12/21/2010
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
Elise and I were evacuated from the Roseville Galleria last night. We were waiting in the line to see Santa when an announcement came over the intercom, "This is the Roseville Fire Department. The mall is now closed. Please calmly make your way towards the nearest exit." This compilation of photos at the SacBee shows exactly what we experienced. I saw the man standing on the counter. I saw the people with musical papers standing all around. But instead of a "Random act of musical kindness," what they actually did was cost the city hundreds of dollars, and cause an evacuation that scared the bejesus out of my kid. Plus, she didn't even get to see Santa; and she was waiting, patiently, for over an hour to see him. The first sign of trouble was when we heard a loud bang above us as we came out of the Apple Store. (Don't worry, my husband doesn't read my posts, so he won't know I was shopping for him there :-) The sound of the bang did vibrate through the floor below to where we were standing and I heard people scream. But I looked up and no one looked scared or worried behind the glass walls. I figured it was a display case that fell over or something and we went on our way to see Santa. Then, again another loud bang, another vibration on the floor we were on. But once again, everyone looked calm on the top floor so I decided to stay put. While standing in line I noticed a man standing in front of the escalator blocking people from going upstairs. Similarly, the man standing in front of the elevator was discouraging people from going up there as well. I was trying to read their lips and what I could gather was there were too many people upstairs and they were to try and get people to go downstairs instead. I never saw a "flash mob" of people but it was suddely very busy at the mall. I did tell Elise, "honey, let's come back tomorrow." "Nooooo!" she begged. "Please, I know just what I'm going to ask him for." She was being such a good girl, playing with her little toy squirrel, Chip-Chip. I caved. We stayed and the rest is history. Over by Santa there was just an orderly line of folks waiting, a few families eating popcorn, and kids starting to get ancy. But when we were evacuated, I had two choices. Our car was on the top floor of the parking structure next to Macys. But because of the fire back in October, there is a narrow tunnel that we would have to walk through to get to our car. And that's if were were brave enough to go upstairs, which I knew from reading the mall employee's lips was too full of people. There was no way I was going to risk my daughter being trampled in that tunnel. The second choice was to walk towards the courtyard where Ruths Chris is located. That's what we did. As we made our way to the door I saw the "flash mob". There were thousands of people gathered under the food court. A man in a blue shirt was telling the crowd a joke. Although I didn't hear what he said, everyone laughed. Once outside, I sat Elise down on a cold brick bench and decided we would wait until the crowd dispersed and then try to find our car. Luckily, my new SmartPhone has a "Where's my Car" app that I had enabled.
0 Comments on Evacuated: Elise, Me, and Chip Chip as of 12/25/2010 10:17:00 AM
Add a Comment
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 11/14/2010
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: inspiration, theft, the great recession, mice infestation, happy ending, Add a tag
 There was a company take over a few months ago. In the shuffle, 950 jobs, including my husband's, were outsourced to India. During the transition period, while the new people in India were being trained, they kept the call center open here in North Highlands. They required employees to be at work at 5:30 am. So, my husband started getting up for work at 4:00 am. One morning I'm woken up by John screaming, "Oh my god, Oh my god!!!!!" I ran out to the kitchen and my big, manly husband looked like the elephants on Dumbo who were running from Dumbo's mousy friend.  "Where'd he go?" I asked. "He went under there," he said, pointing to the hole that goes under the stove top from the burner. It took us a few minutes to get brave enough to pop the top of the stove up. But, when we did, the mouse had vanished. He'd only seen the mouse because he was up in the middle of the night. How long had this been going on? I've had mice in my house before as a kid but, as an adult I've never had to deal with this. My immediate reaction was to clean. And I did--for days--for weeks. I tore my house apart like a kid dumping toys out of a bin. I sent John to the store to get a live trap because, as a vegetarian, I don't believe in killing animals. So, I put peanut butter inside the trap and placed it under my rolling hamper in the coat closet. I ripped every thing out of all the closets. I completely stripped our office clean of the clutter that had accumulated in there while I was student teaching and writing my children's novel. Everywhere I searched I found evidence of a mouse. He'd made a home out of my linen closet. He'd nibbled my shawl in Elise's closet and made a comfy nest. He'd been on top of our refrigerator. But where was he coming into the house? Like a good detective, I put baking soda on the floor in the kitchen and on the stove. Every morning there'd be new tiny foot prints but I couldn't figure out where he was coming from. It was time for expert help. I called the office at The Arbors. The Old Big-Boss' Daughter answered and must have gotten much satisfaction from my admittance that a mouse had taken residence in my home, "I've worked here for two years and I've never heard of anyone having mice in their house," she said, snidely. A few days later, an exterminator came to help. I wasn't going to be here when he arrived so I told John, "absolutely no poison, and no sticky pad. I've signed I-don't-know-how-many petitions against those sticky pads." If you don't know why this is wrong, click here. But to my amazement, the only thing that man had in hi
3 Comments on Thanks, Mouse!, last added: 11/15/2010
Display Comments
Add a Comment
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 11/13/2010
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
If you go to Jersylicious's Website you can get a make over like this one.  
0 Comments on I've been Jerseyfied! as of 1/1/1900
Add a Comment
By: Shelby Rodriguez,
on 11/7/2010
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
It was Amazing! Magical! It was like I found the Mothership. People surrounded me who believed just as I did. It validated the whole year that I sacrificed to stop the tar roofing.
Then I was in People Magazine and Lifetime's Remarkable Women's Series.
Here's some behind the scenes photos. This was so much fun, but a lot of hard work. I always thought models had it easy but now I know better.
Add a Comment
By: Shelby, The Script Activist,
on 9/25/2009
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
 I have taken solace in decorating my home. I love to collect found objects, especially second hand objects. This is one of my favorite groupings. This realization came during a conversation with the director of the American Lung Association's Program Leadership team. I apologized for my lackluster participation of late. She assured me there was no problem and offered some advice. "What you're going through right now probably has a lot to do with the ending of two huge projects in your life. You need to acknowledge that. It can't just be swept under the rug" she said. I needed that. When I was in extreme-busy-mode I was surviving on about four hours (or less) sleep a night and had developed a lump in my throat that my doctor said was a symptom of excessive stress. In fact, even after things settled down (or abruptly ended) in my life the lump in my throat, literally, stuck around until just a few months ago. In my earlier posts I feel like I hadn't really come to terms with the fact that I needed this time, this down time, to heal emotionally, and physically, to let my mind stop spinning with a thousand details needing attention, and to figure out my priorities. I began to focus on trying to stay busy almost so I wouldn't have to decompress and face the reality of what I'd been through. Writing this script for me, as been tremendously healing and through reflection one really has a chance to learn life lessons. What I've learned is about the interconnection between humans and the earth, the way we need it rather than the other way around. Before I became a campaign organizer, I hadn't really considered the pluralistic nature of our society; how we all breathe the same air, eat the same food, need a healthy environment to raise our children in, and need each other to take the same care in our environmental health to reap the benefits. Knowing now how much easier it is to allow toxins into neighborhoods where the people don't have the understanding, the money or the resources to fight back I see the need for societal changes to make us a more environmentally just and equal society. Despite that uphill battle I've been struggling with, I've been feeling this sense of peace and of purpose again and it came in the form of, oddly enough, a few drives in the country and a make-up girlie party earlier this month. I sat in a chair and closed my eyes while my friend put make-up on me. I had almost forgotten about wearing make-up for the past few months, (which I'd worn since I was given permission in the fifth grade). When I came home that day, I took pictures of myself because I felt like I was waking up from hibernation and wanted to document the progress. Add a Comment
By: Shelby, The Script Activist,
on 8/23/2009
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
0 Comments on Christina can handle it as of 1/1/1990
Add a Comment
By: Shelby, The Script Activist,
on 8/21/2009
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
 So, this is me last year, all grumpy because I was researching asphalt roofing tar at the start of my campaign to stop the corporation that owned my community from using that roofing method anymore. I had sores in my nose, and a sore throat, from breathing tar fumes for a few months. Here's part of my script: EXT.street in front of new house-Same Getting out of the minivan, Shelby helps her small daughter, Elise, out of the side door and opens the back hatch. SHELBY Elise,stay near me...oh honey what is that smell? Shelby grabs some clothes out of the back of the van's hatch door. The clothes are still on their hangers and lumped together in groups just taken from her year-long borrowed closet. Shelby squints her face and nose as if doing so will keep the smell from permeating her nose. Elise puts her fingers inside of her nose and closes her mouth tightly. Shelby drops the clothes back into the minivan. Moving away from the van, Shelby walks a bit and peaks down to the end of her new court. There she sees a filthy, red piece of machinery (asphalt kettle) smoldering with a fume cloud surrounding it and tar permanently dripping from its exterior. Up on the roof about three doors down she spies men, filthy with black tar on their clothes, hands, and faces. With mops they slather the sizzling roof with hot tar while tar drips over the edge onto the ground making the ground littered with chunks of tar. As they work, the wind carries a sinister plume of white fume away from the roof they are working on and towards Shelby's new house. SHELBY Oh honey. Come here. Let's go inside. ELISE Momma, what is that stinky thing? SHELBY I don't know, baby, but I thought stuff like that wasn't legal anymore. +++ Well, nobody is actually reading this blog but me, but if you come upon this I'd love feedback. Plus, I have formatted correctly, but blogger isn't letting me keep the format once I paste the work... 
0 Comments on A productive funk as of 1/1/1990
Add a Comment
By: Shelby, The Script Activist,
on 8/20/2009
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
 John, my husband says, "you're being a victim right now…How's that workin' for ya" I think, "it's not working but I can't see a way out right now". The self-loathing, the self-pity…it's not working for me. But life feels like a journey too hard to take right now; as if everthing I want comes with a looming obstacle course as a prerequisite. Nothing has ever been easy for me and I don't know if I have it in me to pull off anymore great feets. I mean, ya, I've gone to school, I've earned degrees, My No More Tar Roofs campaign was successful (so far). I have a beautiful daughter but what have I done? Well, a lot actually, but none of it has been worth much money. Does my self-esteem scale rely upon how much money I earn? It never had before. I've always been so self assured until now. I've always said that I wouldn't give up this time I've been at home to raise my daughter for anything in the world. I consoled myself by beieving that when I'm 80 years old and looking back on my life choices I would have kicked myself for focusing on a career instead of on my daughter. But then I see others who definitely believe in the benefits of the daycare industry (and this person is so happy right now). She looks great with her professional haircut and her trips to the esthetician, and I have bags under my eyes and am constantly fighting back tears. Who made the right choice? Even while I ask that question I want to rip my hair out for the impertinence of it. I mean, it's my choice whether or not to let all of this make me sad. I guess it's because I have this longing to just feel safe again, to know that everything will be ok and I almost can't remember the last time I felt that way. It must have been when I was very young. Well, there were a few months in 1999 in between when I moved to Sacramento and when I found out about my Dad's cancer that I felt truly happy. During those few months I really thought that there was nothing that could happen that couldn't be fixed. But having your Father die can really change that optomistic view point forever. K, so sorry about all that. I've got to say that I've kept myself up late a few nights in a row writing my script. I really like the genre. I like the strict rules mixed with the freedom and creativity. I've got about 13 pages. Wouldn't it be cool if it actually got made into a movie? I'd be happier than a lark, (whatever that is) and I sure bet my self esteem scale would bump up into extra-credit. 
0 Comments on The self scale as of 1/1/1990
Add a Comment
By: Shelby, The Script Activist,
on 8/14/2009
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
  Since my bed is one of those tall canopy beds, I hit the ground with the intensity of a mini-sized earthquake. I was somewhere in between a dream and a painful reality. The pain was so intense that it made me nauseated enough to nearly throw up. It was my arm that caught me, and for it's trouble, it cracked all the way through and across the bone.  If I had it my way, there'd be some Final Draft scriptwriting software all up in my hard drive (if ya know what I mean, wink, wink) but I'm a SAHM, so budgetary reasoning dictates my decisions. For this reason, I've chosen and downloaded Celtx, with the C pronounced like a K, MmmmKay. So far, I like it but I'm at that stuck-in-the-middle position again. I'm too afraid to start writing because if I suck at it then the story I tell myself about how successful I'll become someday, and how happy I'll be when I have that glow which only comes from the serenity of financial security, will be banished out of my repertoire of comforting thoughts forever. It's like when I was a stylist at Supercuts and I'd tell myself (and everyone else) that I only worked there while I was in college. This was true, but my subsequent thought was that I'd
0 Comments on After the fall as of 1/1/1990
Add a Comment
By: Shelby, The Script Activist,
on 8/8/2009
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
What I want more than anything in the world is to be a writer--Just throwing that out there into the universe with its infinite ability to help one find solutions to life-changing dilemmas. One of my problems is, that I typed "how to write a script" into my browser and was subsequently told that I have no chance at being a scriptwriter because I didn't go to film school, and I don't know anyone in the business. So, I made a decision. I am going to put aside my idea for an episodic drama and try writing one of the movie scripts that I've been mulling over first. It seems that getting a movie script noticed is easier than it is getting a television spec script read for a show that is not yet in existence. (But my idea is really good so I'm not going to completely give up). So, let's get down to business. What are my credentials? How do I know I can do this? I studied English in college, that's what my Bachelor's degree is in. I even wrote scripts for television while in college…they were just PSAs, and a documentary. They were written in the AV format, which I've found, by doing some research, is not really the norm for movie and television scripts these days. Getting an English degree requires some knowledge about drama, character development, plot, subplot, comic relief, and formatting, all of which should help guide me in the right direction. As for my second question, how am I going to do this? I'm going to tackle writing and promoting my script with all of the drive that forced me into being a community activist this past year. In fact, my experience being an activist is what I'm going to write about. Here's me in the news fighting for clean air. I'll never forget when I was told by one of the Air District faculty that I wouldn't be able to stop it (the tar roofs). "You're just one person" he said. In fact, everyone from my Mother to my Doctor told me to give up. But I fought, hard. That's what I have to do now. I have a few months before student teaching and I'm going to give it my all. I once saw a woman on TV who said that she had been through a horrible nanny experience. The whole ordeal was terrifying and afterwards she bought some scriptwriting software, wrote her script over a few days time (with no writing experience and I have some), and then sold her script on a website making six figures. Now, I can do that, right?? Hhhmm, Right!!!, I mean. 
0 Comments on The Dream: One step at a time as of 1/1/1990
Add a Comment
By: Shelby, The Script Activist,
on 8/7/2009
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
By: Shelby, The Script Activist,
on 8/6/2009
Blog: The Script Activist (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags: Add a tag
My name is Shelby The Script Activist. This blog is my attempt at holding myself accountable as I write my first script , find an agent, and become a successful script writer. 
0 Comments on The Script Activist as of 1/1/1990
Add a Comment
|
0 Comments on A new sense of peace as of 1/1/1990
I thought of a new tactic! You can give her your lesson plans where you used the information. Isn't the point of professional development to affect the classroom? Maybe if she sees how you spent more time planning the lessons on the Holocaust, she'll give you the extra time.
I think I need .25 hours. I'm going to write an IEP reflection and that will give me one more hour. I think the problem is in how growth is measured. It's measured by hours rather than in how much I've changed or grown as a teacher. Oh, well. We know when we're being asked to write an answer to the same question three times in one module the focus is not on what we're doing right, it's about how much we can accomplish in the amount of time we're forced to spend on it. If that's the focus, fine, I can play that game. It's just sad. Thanks for the idea, Christina!!