Beach Party
Last night was my first beach party here in Vancouver. Interesting... quite a different animal from those in Manila. Of course, I've only been to 2 beach parties back home, but still.
For one thing, although a number of the guys (and girls) got shit-faced drunk, nobody got stupid. Well, one guy did... but I won't say any more about that. I think it has something to do with how mature most of us are here in the writing program. I've always said that it takes a special kind of crazy to choose to become a writer, and I stand my ground on that. But even more than that, it takes a certain level of MATURITY to choose this profession. We all know that as screenwriters we will never be treated with as much respect as we deserve, but we still do it... for the love of it.
And that maturity came out last night. Whereas most of the people I knew back home got really stupid when they were drunk and quite prone to obnoxiousness to offset their immaturity, this group of writers sat around a dying bonfire and told stories. Not crazy "look at me I'm cool and bad-ass" stories... they were stories about life, about love, about marriage, about loss, about pets, about longing, and about Kevin Spacey. There was one dunderhead there, but he belongs in the less secure of his identity set. But besides that, the night ended with roughly 90% of the group drunk (not me! I don't drink! And I was driving! See? Responsible!), and those drunks were some of the nicest, most intelligent lushes I have ever met. All in all, quite an enjoyable night.
Plus, it was good to release some stress, eh?
For one thing, although a number of the guys (and girls) got shit-faced drunk, nobody got stupid. Well, one guy did... but I won't say any more about that. I think it has something to do with how mature most of us are here in the writing program. I've always said that it takes a special kind of crazy to choose to become a writer, and I stand my ground on that. But even more than that, it takes a certain level of MATURITY to choose this profession. We all know that as screenwriters we will never be treated with as much respect as we deserve, but we still do it... for the love of it.
And that maturity came out last night. Whereas most of the people I knew back home got really stupid when they were drunk and quite prone to obnoxiousness to offset their immaturity, this group of writers sat around a dying bonfire and told stories. Not crazy "look at me I'm cool and bad-ass" stories... they were stories about life, about love, about marriage, about loss, about pets, about longing, and about Kevin Spacey. There was one dunderhead there, but he belongs in the less secure of his identity set. But besides that, the night ended with roughly 90% of the group drunk (not me! I don't drink! And I was driving! See? Responsible!), and those drunks were some of the nicest, most intelligent lushes I have ever met. All in all, quite an enjoyable night.
Plus, it was good to release some stress, eh?
posted by Thomas at 10:37 AM
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