The Archive: Great Women of Film Networking Event Recap (2002)

I am in the process of cleaning out a hard drive that has been in my possession since 2000. The files that I am stumbling across are so old and random; I can’t believe it was me who wrote them in the first place. I was so scarily honest and hilariously tragic while purging all this brain vomit, never intending for any of it to see the light of day. As such, I will be sporadically posting the best finds on The Lair and then providing one paragraph of context below each submission.

These are all my original words as typed. Nothing has been or will be altered to avoid embarrassment.

__________________
2002-07-24
Great Women of Film Log
by Daniela

I know I forgot to write about my experience at the Great Women of Film Networking event this past weekend, I will summarize since I am the only one who reads this anyway – BOO!

hehe

Events of 7/19/2002

8am – Board flight to LA

10am – Arrive at LAX airport

10:30am – Get off shuttle at 4 Points Sheraton, the fancy hotel I reserved to make me feel like a business lady.

When you travel alone you should at least feel comfortable, right.

12:00pm – Take shuttle to Mervyn’s and purchase “networking” type outfit.

4:00pm – Finish getting dressed, discover I have no toiletrees, run to gift shop and buy toothpaste. I have to take toothpaste with me to event since I have no time to put it in my room.

Or my ass.

6:10pm – After being the LAST person to be dropped off by shuttle even though I was the 1st on (along with fancy UCLA professors and a soccer star from Napoli), I arrive at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences in Beverly Hills.

7:00pm – Watching the schmoozing is making me ill, I forgot I don’t know how to socialize with others. Write furiously in notebook about all I see.

Admire giant Oscar statues that litter the room. Drink lots of Red Bull.

7:30pm – Am approached by a woman who is curious as to why I am writing in a green notebook in the center of the room, eyeing everyone. She ends up being a producer and likes me. She has me follow her around and introduces me to almost everyone there. I meet producers from Warner Brothers, the editor of Variety magazine, and a bunch of other important people I don’t know.

8:00pm – I meet the Assistant the the VP of Films at Granada Entertainment, her name is Laura. We decide to stick together. She is philipino and talks very fast, she knows her stuff.

She writes notes in my notebook about people I should not associate myself with, people she hates in the industry.

8:30pm – We head up grand staircase to screening room. Lots of Oscar statues in there. We watch a film about cancer, to motivate the rich to bid high on the items that are sold after, with proceeds going to City of Hope, an org that does a lot of cancer research.

9:00pm – We watch a documentary on young women in film, at the program of Girls Film School in El Paso, Texas.

It is very inspiring.

9:30pm – More bidding ensues, people buy fabulous things like private jet planes and botox injections. I write everything I see.

10:00pm – Panelists finally arrive.

They are women from all aspects of the film industry – directors, producer,

editors, special effects people, etc.

Their info goes in my notebook, I write write write it all.

Bonnie Curtis, a producer on A.I and Minority Report talks about the importance of having a mentor. She makes paradoxal statement of the vitalness of having a mentor, but that you can’t go find one, they find you- but only when you are ready to have one.

My mind swirls with questions, but I am sitting to far up to ask.

11:00pm – Event is officially over, and I wait in line with lots of famous people to use the ladies room.

11:30pm – My shuttle flakes on me, and a man with a ferrari that has my name on the license plate offers to lend me his home all night in Beverly Hills with an olympic sized swimming pool (gasp) while his wife and him go party. I am flattered, but decline. I do not wish to revel in other people’s success. I am forced to pay for a cab all the way back to LAX.

12:00am – I take the shuttle from LAX back to my hotel and watch the Conan O’Brian show. I am so excited from the night’s events I do air hops on the bed like a freakin kid.

2:00am – I go to sleep, and dream the dreams of inspired filmmakers.

11:00am – I wake up, and get ready to get the hell out of LA.

12:45pm – I arrive at LAX, where during the x-raying of my bags they confiscate my cosmetic scissors, making a huge fuss in front of everyone, one probably reserved for drug smuggling.

The scissors are about two inches long and I get pissed off, explaining that I had no plans to stab someone with the tool I use to cut tags off my clothes. Whatever.

2:20pm – I board my flight back to Sacramento.

3:40pm – I arrive in Sacramento, so thrilled to have experienced such an amazing event as the GWOF/City of Hope benefit. I clutch the business cards I collected and make mental note to thank all I met there, to keep in their memory.

-Am amazed at the amount of times I was complimented on my name.

While working as an administrative assistant at a non-profit, a co-worker told me about this event. I was twenty years old and knew I was capable of more than filing and building Access databases. My colleague (who always stood up for herself) knew that I wanted to make films someday and found this listing on the internet for me. For some crazy reason, I was greatly inspired and decided to take the risk and attend (all by myself). It was truly a life-changing event. At that time, I had zero exposure to people in the industry and had never met a female producer before. I remember getting on my knees in my hotel room the last night of my trip and praying for just one chance. “All I need is one, God, and I will show you what I can do.”

The Archive: Dream Club (2004)

I am in the process of cleaning out a hard drive that has been in my possession since 2000. The files that I am stumbling across are so old and random; I can’t believe it was me who wrote them in the first place. I was so scarily honest and hilariously tragic while purging all this brain vomit, never intending for any of it to see the light of day. As such, I will be sporadically posting the best finds on The Lair and then providing one paragraph of context below each submission.

These are all my original words as typed. Nothing has been or will be altered to avoid embarrassment.

__________________

Dream Club
By daniela

My idea of a really cool club would be one that played Macy Grey, Tori Amos, Le Tigre, Janet Jackson (90’s era only up to Velvet Rope), Modest Mouse, Tricky, Stereolab, Radiohead, Alicia Keys, Portishead, and other artists like that.

And the people would be intelligent, and everyone would be beautiful and inquisitive and funny, and really witty.  And although they might appear as such, no one would be clique oriented. pretentious or rude. Respectful elitism would be allowed, but not to the extent that anyone’s feelings were seriously hurt.  Anyone would be able to experience this club but the regulars would all be against Bush, non religious or theoretically spiritual, probably members of the green party.  People would mix throughout the night, from painting to discussing things with strangers to dancing to experimenting with new exotic drinks. Of course, people would order martinis and daiquiris and cosmopolitans.  The club color scheme would be black and white, with hints of red.  There would be plenty of comfortable places to sit, and people would be reading in a lounge type room or playing chess, or making art.

The dance floor would light up with black and red squares of light, and the bartender would be sexually androgynous looking, and wear suspenders. The ceilings would be very high, and rope dancers would swing above the crowd. No one would fall or get hurt.  No one would smoke, or want to.  All bartenders would recycle, and a woman dressed in jade green would walk around silently picking up any waste that people left, and putting it in recycling bins.  But her job would be very easy, as everyone would remember to recycle.

There would be an area similar to the Korova Milk Bar, only instead of acid laced milk, they would offer different kinds of thai iced tea, and beautiful men and women of all ethnic backgrounds wearing little except body paint would walk around serving the drinks, bending to ask thought provoking questions on current political issues.  They would get a lot of tips, and enjoy their work and clientele.

the only men in this club would be polite metrosexuals, and they wouldn’t all be white.  People would comfortably speak in other languages, and lecherousness would not be allowed, by anyone. Including me, the owner of such a club.

There would be a smalls screening room where short films would be played all night long.  A regal looking sign would grace the front door, listing the films that would play each hour with a brief description.  The screening room would offer a full candy bar, and homemade popcorn.

And radiohead and following radiohead, Stereolab, would grace us with surprise performances, and then ladytron would do a remix of Playgirl.  The end.

I wrote this while living with a family in Washington Heights. I was renting a tiny room from a single mother who often walked around in her underwear, as did both her sons ages seven and twenty three. Once, the bathroom ceiling caved in and it wasn’t repaired for a week. We had to use a communal bucket. I think I wrote this while fantasizing about being able to afford a better place, which led to thoughts of something else I did not have at the time – friends.