It's really hot. I have closed the shutters and turned on the fan. I wish I could lie in a pool somewhere.
My manager (in L.A.) and I have a conference call every Wednesday. I told him I'm sending him my spec script soon. He said I need a new title. Sigh.
All night and this morning ( I woke up at 5:30 as usual) I've been trying to think of some that didn't completely suck. However, I've been distracted because of some of the comments from yesterday along with the upcoming holiday.
Yesterday as I was writing a few responses, certain feelings came flooding back to the surface. I realized that I was getting kinda angry.
Then it occurred to me I haven't felt that way since I boarded an American Airline flight to Rome.
The 4th of July is tomorrow. I've been thinking about why am I an expat? Why did I move here vs Paris? Is it normal not to miss for one second the country of your birth? A place you have lived for over 40 years? What does it meant to be patriotic?
I'm still trying to collect my thoughts so I don't ramble on or write a book. Once or if I do, I'll post more.
I do know the answer to the Paris question. I spoke about it before. This quote from the novel "THE NAMESAKE" sums it up.
"Immersing herself in a third language, a third culture, had been her refuge - she approached French, unlike things American or Indian, without guilt, or misgiving, or expectation of any kind. It was easier to turn her back on the two countries that could claim her in favor of one that had no claim whatsoever."
The character like me, is a first generation American. Her parents are from India. One of my closest friends back in New York is also of Indian decent and we used to talk all the time about of how weird it is to be a person of color in America when your parents are not American born or raised. You feel all this pressure to prove your Americaness but yet that culture is at complete odds with your parent's. Then the culture you are trying to so hard to fit into kinda doesn't want your brown or black butt to begin with. In my situation it was not fun when I was younger and because I spent my formative years in the 'burbs I spoke a certain way. i.e. white. So I had to prove I was "down" or the blackness police would take away my pass. In said suburb I heard the n-word dropped on a regular basis, even from some friends (when they would slip and say the word then look at me and say "you know I don't think you're one" or "oops sorry"). So basically I fit in nowhere.
At some point, you know what, it's fucking exhausting. In Italy I'm a "straniera" a foreigner. That's cool, it's true I am. I don't have a single Italian relative. But what is not cool is feeling like a foreigner in your own freaking country.