I love the National Gallery of Art.  I should go more often, it being so close, but I don’t. Every time I go, I see something that sparks the artist within…and I end up spending a boatload in the gift shop. Each trip to the National Gallery is both exhilarating and frustrating, inspiring me to create and reminding me of how little time I have to do so.  I am extremely focused when I go…specifically on the photography exhibits and sketches. The last time I went it was Paris in Transition that drew me. I was completely taken with the exhibit and Dora Maar’s Puppet Hooked on a Fence. I am ashamed to say that was over 4 years ago.

This year I convinced my sister and brother-in-law to go to the National Gallery of Art during their trip here over the holidays. Actually, the debate was whether we should go to the National Gallery or the Museum of Natural History. I was selfish, I know, but I think they enjoyed the visit, as they wanted to go to both. After a quick trip to the espresso bar and an hour in the gift shop, I was off to the exhibit for which I made the visit…Henry Callahan at 100. I had no idea who Henry Callahan was but soon came to understand why he was referred to as “one of the most innovative and influential photographers of the 20th century.” His works ranged from rural landscapes to city streets to personal portraits, both in black and white and in color. I am normally a sucker for architectural photography, the more monochromatic the better, but I was captivated by Callahan’s portraits and the individuals in his street scenes.  The intimate pictures of his wife were stunning and the fleeting shots of random people in his street scenes were engaging in their haunting anonymity. After I had made it through the exhibit, it surprised me how much I enjoyed his work and my mind raced with questions, not about Henry Callahan but about myself. Where I was going creatively with all of these crazy artistic “hobbies”, what were my creative goals, and the question at the forefront of my mind…

Will anything I do ever be considered “influential?”

Who knows…I hope so.

~ Kim

Addendum: I got into trouble for this photograph at the museum. Don’t worry…I didn’t use a flash, but it’s a major no-no to take photographs in the special exhibits. I couldn’t help it. It reminded me of my grandmother.

Personal Photo of H. Callahan's 'Detroit, 1950'

My head feels like it’s going to explode. It feels like that a lot, actually. There’s just so much stuff going on in there…it’s either that or a migraine.

Cue: Scanners (now I know you remember that classic)

Click here to experience what Kim is feeling...

We’ve just wrapped up the second leg of the PUKER TOUR and I am exhausted. Just to recap, the PUKER TOUR kicked off when my short documentary PUKER screened at its first film festival back in April, the Indie Grits Film Festival in Columbia, South Carolina, which was amazing. This past weekend was what I like to refer to as the second leg of the PUKER TOUR. PUKER was so fortunate to screen at two festivals in the past few days. On Thursday, October 13^th we drove to Hagerstown, Maryland for the opening night of the inaugural Maryland International Film Festival.

Maryland International Film Festival

After an evening spent meeting some fabulous filmmakers and actors, VIP-style, we drove the next morning to the charming town of Chagrin Falls, Ohio where PUKER screened in front of an enthusiastic audience of about 50 people on Friday night at the Chagrin Documentary Film Festival. What a great experience! I hope to go back someday.

Chagrin Documentary Film Festival

The PUKER BUS (my 4-Runner) left Chagrin early the next morning for Hagerstown where PUKER screened Saturday afternoon. (Thanks again to all of my good friends who attended the screening in Hagerstown. What would I have done without you?? …had a Q and A with 4 strangers, that’s what.) The PUKER TOUR wrapped up Sunday after the conclusion of the festivals, and WHAM its back to the real world.

So, I’m two weeks late on this blog, I know. It’s not really supposed to be a PUKER TOUR update or images of exploding heads…it’s supposed to be an update on my progress/status on the screenplay. THE HOURGLASS OF DEATH Month #2. Well, because of the PUKER TOUR (excuse) and because of preparations for the PUKER TOUR (excuse) and because of my homework for my biothreat class (excuse) and because of work craziness (excuse), I am late. But better late than never…here is the current status on my script:

Outline: done

Page count: 20 (goal = 90 to 110 pages)

I know I know…back to work.

Later!

~ Kim

P.S. I almost forgot the best excuse of all…time spent with our new addition to the family…

Pretty cute excuse, huh?

And I think I am addicted to Exedrine. (Ok I know that its not possible to have a physical addiction to Exedrine per se, just the caffeine in it, but because I am a pharmacist, I’m not too worried about it.)

All in the name of art!  And how do you think I am rattling off this blog at 6:20 a.m.???

Catch ya later!

~Kim

Kim Caffeinated (photo by BrownDogFoto)

I take commitment seriously.  In my last blog I committed not only to writing a screenplay in the coming year, but I also committed to regular progress updates at least monthly.  So here’s my first update.  I started my journey exactly one month ago, and to be honest, I didn’t get very far in terms of page count.  Although my goal was to produce 3 pages per week, there were some important things I had to achieve beforehand.  For example, I needed an idea…a plan…an outline.  Basically, that’s what August was all about: getting all of the things done that I needed to do before I dove into my screenwriting program and typed “FADE IN”.

First: the idea.  I had three (what I thought) very viable ideas.  I have a catalog of ideas that are in various forms (short stories, short scripts, outlines, etc.) that I have accumulated over the years since I began writing.   The biggest challenge for me has always been is focus, and of course this is crucial to the coming year and goal. So my first step was to decide which idea to focus on.  I’m going with the ‘revenge’ one.  Its pretty kick ass (literally).

Second: the plan.  The plan is from the screenwriting book Save the Cat (by Blake Snyder). His beat sheet is legendary and I’m using it.  It makes sense to me. End of story.  If you want to know more, find it here: http://www.blakesnyder.com/tools/

Third: the outline.  I have a preliminary outline and am trying to fill in the gaps. And I am currently meshing the outline with the various beats outlined in the Beat Sheet.  That’s taking some work…I hadn’t given thought to a ‘B-story’ but I sure as heck managed to have an ‘All is Lost’ moment and ‘Dark Night of the Soul’ without even knowing that’s what they were.

Well, gang…not too thrilling but that was my August and I promised an update.

Oh yeah…and I wrote 4 pages of actual script. WOOHOO!!!  And incidentally, it didn’t start with FADE IN…it started with EXT. CITY STREET – LATE NIGHT.

There you have it…the Hourglass of Death Update for Month #1.  Eleven more to go.

~ Kim

P.S.  Other August notables: my short documentary PUKER got in to THREE more film festivals!  Stay tuned for a PUKER blog coming soon.

P.P.S. Y’all know I’m flyin’ by the seat of my pants with this screenplay thing, right???  It usually works for me.

Let me preface the following by saying I am not psychotic.  I am not hearing “voices” or seeing things that aren’t there.  But for some cosmic reason my brain today has been filled with an image and voice from my past, one created by Hollywood in what I feel is one of the most beloved and yet most disturbing movies of all time.  The one image that has haunted me this day, the first day of being “over 40″, this wonderful Sunday, is…

Yes.  The Wicked Witch of the West.  And yes I do in fact think The Wizard of Oz is one of the most disturbing mainstream movies of all time…right up there with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and A Clockwork Orange.  I mean considering the intended audience is children, that’s a pretty warped movie.  And thanks MGM for the annual repeat so that the images from this movie are emblazoned on my brain, not to mention that voice…

“I’ll get you, my pretty!  And you’re little dog Toto, too!!”

Ok eff that!  I’m not your ‘little pretty’ and you’re NOT getting anywhere near my dog.

This brings me to the Hourglass of Death.  It’s that monstrous hourglass with horrifically red sand that ever so quickly counts down the last seconds of Dorothy’s life.  And every single time I looked at the clock today as it was jumping forward exponentially, I saw the Hourglass of Death…how MORBID is that??!!!  And I could hear the Wicked Witch of the West mocking me …

“You see that???  That’s how much longer you’ve got to be alive! And it isn’t long, my pretty, it isn’t long!”

Let me re-emphasize…I am NOT psychotic.  Morbid, yes.  Psychotic, no.

Ok here’s the deal (and the point of this blog)…I have a lot of cool stuff that I want to do.  And I’m not getting any younger.  What’s keeping me from doing all the awesome things I want to do?  I could say I am a busy person and I have a full time job and a house to upkeep and I have to go to physical therapy and I have to work out and I have people to see and blah blah blah…or maybe I am just inherently lazy.  But the bottom line in all of this is that the one single thing that is keeping me from fulfilling my destiny is…me.

Last year when I turned 40, I told myself I wanted to finish my first full length screenplay in the coming year.  Well that “coming year” came and went like the blood-red sand of the Hourglass of Death and I have no screenplay to show for it.  And yes a lot happened in that year and life happens as it does to all of us, but I find myself sitting here in the exact same place I sat last year on this day, in front of the computer contemplating the future and making deals with myself and struggling to find motivation.  I have come to the conclusion that it will take a documented, signed contract to provide the motivation to get ‘er done.  And that’s what this blog is…my commitment to myself to write my screenplay over the coming year, my contract posted for the world to see.  I will provide updates (at least monthly, hopefully weekly) on the blog for those that choose to follow me on this journey (they will be appropriately entitled ‘The Hourglass of Death: an Update’).  My target…an average of 3 pages per week with a goal of 90 pages by the time it’s all said and done.  (For my friends who are good at math, yes that gives me a little wiggle room…for times when I’m out of town, holidays, work insanity, etc.  Hopefully I can achieve this goal in less than a year’s time, but I wanted to be practical and realistic and not set myself up for failure.)

And you are all free to hold me to it!  Comment here, Facebook me, Tweet me into submission…like that nasty, green bitch who will be looking over my shoulder the entire time…

The sand is falling…

Let’s get ‘er done!

~ Kim

P.S.  For those who would like to watch the infamous hourglass scene in its entirety… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNLAc8TnJcg

Caution here’s a spoiler: Toto gets away. 

Wow…it’s been a long time since I’ve blogged. Almost 6 months!  A lot has happened since…both good and bad.  I’m not trying to make excuses, but it was quite an eventful 6 months. It began back in February with two medical events: my partner had shoulder surgery and my father was diagnosed with Stage 2 prostate cancer.  Olivia’s shoulder surgery turned out ok…other than the fact she is an avid tennis player and needed to take the requisite break from the one activity she loves most.  I am proud of the way she held up psychologically.  I am not so strong (as you will come to realize later).  And Dad’s prostate cancer seems to be responding well to radiation therapy.  We were all quite on edge while we were waiting for the staging.  But Stage 2 gave him some options and he chose what I feel was the wisest one.  Heck, now he rides his new road bike so much I am beginning to think he’s blood doping or something a la Lance Armstrong! 

And then there was March.  On March 2nd I received a letter in the mail from the Indie Grits Film Festival.  (Those that follow me and my Twitter persona KimBergie know that I have dedicated the last year of my life to my first (and zero-budget) documentary “Puker”.)  I remember looking at the envelope convinced it was my first rejection letter (I like to expect the worst…that way I am always prepared…not much of an optimist, I know) and how nice it was for them to send it (unlike SOME festivals who shall remain nameless), and it turned out to be my first film festival acceptance letter!  I will not lie…after multiple fist pumps and some victorious Peyton Manning-esque arm raising, I cried.

I spent the remainder of March getting ready for the festival and the first ever Puker screening on April 16th in Columbia, SC.  Did I mention I was on Cloud 9 the whole time??  That is when I wasn’t technically challenged and struggling to render a version of the film in a format that could be projected on the big screen.  Then there were travel arrangements and wardrobe decisions and hair appointments and t-shirt printing and DVD ordering and postcard printing and and…well, you get my drift.  With a full time job (during which time I was acting team leader), I was pretty busy.

And before I knew it, it was April.  I was prepared for the festival and team leading was going well and Liv and Dad were feeling good and I was excited to start the Spring soccer season and all was right with the world.  Soccer…the one thing that I could count on 99% of the time to bring me joy.  I have trouble reliving the first game of our soccer season, so I will be brief: in an awful match where we were outnumbered 11 players to 7 (yeah how about them apples, US vs. Brazil) by an upper division team (we are in the ‘recreational’ division) and losing 5 to 1 (and YES we scored one kick ass goal even outnumbered) with approximately 2 minutes left in the match, I ‘blew out’ my right knee in a take down by a very frustrated player whom we had been beating to the ball the entire game (anatomical details for those interested: torn ACL, torn lateral meniscus, and tibial bruise which they thought was a fracture, at first).  I attended the Indie Grits Film Festival as a gimp.  But it was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life.  Puker had never looked better than it did on the big screen.  For all of my time and effort and passion and dedication and love to be seen by a crowd of about 75 people…what a rush!  And the feedback was so positive and knowing Puker’s story, as we told it, touched the hearts of a few like it had mine, I was so SO happy.  So much so that I didn’t think about the impending doom that was knee surgery scheduled for May 10th.

Indie Grits Film Festival (aka the coolest film festival EVER)

I spent the beginning of May coming down off of my festival rush and getting ready for the surgery.  And before I knew it, May 10th was upon me and I sat half naked on a gurney praying the nerve blocks I was about to receive wouldn’t be as horrific as I remembered from my first and only surgery at the age of 5 when I fractured my hip.  (I have only a few memories of that experience, but the ones I do have are as vivid and traumatic as the memory of what I ate for breakfast this morning…yes…I am currently on a low carb diet.  Nuff said.)  Now I laugh…nerve blocks schmerve blocks!  The Versed (aka happy juice and something I wish I had a personal stash of) beforehand took away any worries about the pain of the femoral injection.

Dude, Versed...rad. (pre-op)

And then I was in the OR and out, only to be awoken by a fire alarm while being dressed frantically in an effort to get me decent enough to be carried down 17 flights of stairs.  (Needless to say, the outpatient surgery center is revisiting their fire emergency SOPs when patients are mid-surgery.  All parties were thankful my ortho had just finished closing me up when the alarm sounded.)

Again, I will keep things short on the painful points.  The next 3 weeks were one of two of the most trying times in my life, both physically and psychologically/emotionally.  (The other was the death of a soulmate, which is a story in and of itself.  For another time.)  Simply…I was broken.

48 hours post-op (I used to have such a pretty knee)

And then there was June…full of physical therapy and family visits and rejection letters from film festivals and VIP tickets to the US Open.  And did I mention physical therapy??  There was a lot of it.

Two weeks post-op

And now it’s July and I feel like I’ve missed the summer.  Although the 100+ degree temperatures are trying their best to remind me I haven’t.  I have started writing again (I just didn’t have the inner strength for it while dealing with the knee) and I’ve filmed a little bit and I have picked up drawing again (which I did while I was laid up and it proved to be very therapeutic… see my whimsical works at http://crankycalico.deviantart.com/gallery/ and I will likely blog more about that at a later time).  And oh HELLZYEAH I am golfing (albiet with a half swing).  Physical therapy is a constant and will be for the foreseeable future because my strength is coming back a little slower than I had hoped.  And I have to get ready for more film festival decisions and starting an online graduate program at Georgetown next month.  So that brings us to today…

Oh yeah…and to the point of this blog…

Dream On.

Cue: Aerosmith…

“Every time I look in the mirror,
All these lines on my face getting clearer.”

I had a lot of time to think during recovery from the whole knee ordeal.  Most of my thinking time was on the couch as an invalid. But when I wasn’t on the couch, I was driving (or being driven) to physical therapy.  And I am kind of a goof ball…I need to get ‘pumped up’ for anything physical, so I rock out.  My car is full of CD mixes…soccer mix…metal soccer mix…chick soccer mix…dance soccer mix…workout mix…you get my drift.  I listen to them on the way to whatever event I am going to and they get me pumped up. And believe me, I was in dire need for pumping up for physical therapy appointments.  But my needs were more of a classical rock variety, so I opted for the radio.  Soon I found the lack of (and it’s not really a bad thing) variety in radio programming.  Every day for like a month, BIG100 would play Dream On and the timing would be just right to correspond with my drive to physical therapy.    

“The past is gone.
It went by, like dusk to dawn.
Isn’t that the way.
Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay.” 

I bet you know what THAT did to me.  Me, being in my vulnerable, post-operative, drug-induced state with a mind idle of everything other than the pain I was in, questioned EVERYTHING.  Career, the role of filmmaking in my life, my writing efforts, the passage of time, approaching “over 40″…you name it (other than my relationship…BTW my full time nurse during this time was wonderful), I questioned it.  Those thoughts were all so overwhelming so I turned to the one sensical question in my life…will I ever play soccer again?

“Dream On

 Dream On

 Dream On”

Yeah…I spent some time on that one.  When I moved to DC, which can be an overwhelming city for a small-town girl like me, I struggled to meet anyone outside of work.  And I being in my early 30s, I also knew I had to start thinking about steppin’ it up in the staying in shape department.  So one random day, I Googled “over 30 womens soccer league Washington DC” with the hopes of finding others like me that enjoyed the sport and that I hopefully could have a connection with.

And the rest was history. 

I have been playing in the Washington Area Women’s Soccer League for 8 years.  And the gifts it’s given me (…ok, let’s see if I can get through this without balling uncosolably) are some of the most amazing gifts I have ever received.  The sense of accomplishment, the confidence, the fitness, the outlet/release of stress, the connection to my past youth…and all of these things could NEVER compare to the one thing I am most thankful for when it comes to soccer…friends.  My life was forever changed for the better because of that simple Google search on a random summer day.  My life was forever changed for the better because of the women known as the Psychedelic Furs.

The Psychedelic Furs (outdoor team)

“Half my life’s
in books’ written pages
Lived and learned from fools and
from sages.
You know it’s true.”

The Psychedelic Furs (indoor team)

I will never play outdoor soccer again.  My ortho says I need to find a non-contact sport (his gentle way of saying your body is too old to play).  And although I should be “back to baseline” in 8 months, I never want to go through the pain I experienced in May/June again.  They say pain makes us stronger.  And although it might be true, fuck that.  I am ashamed to say that the entire experience outweighs the joys of playing with my team.  Some might label me smart, mature, rational for making this decision.  But to me, I am admitting defeat.  To me, I am a coward.  To me, I have surrendered.  And although everyone, including me, saw this coming, it still stings.

Father Time…you may have won this round, but I’ll find something to knock you back and off your feet if only for a little while.  I’ve got unyielding courage, determination, passion and Lancome Extra-Firming Neck Cream in my corner.

“Dream until your dream comes true.”

Catch ya on the flip side!

- Kim

DIY Puker DVD Jacket (Photos by Kim Bergman and Andy Bittner)

And as I sat in the 4Runner today outside the FedEx Used-to-be-Kinkos after having the most helpful interaction with the clerk there who helped me save $14 on my express overnight package to South Carolina, I was lost.  Like there was a piece of me missing and I had no idea which direction I should drive.  Of course I KNEW the direction in which I needed to drive…north to the Giant grocery store to brave Sunday shopping insanity.  But after that…when I’m home and sitting in the desk chair where I’ve spent every weekend for the last 6 months working on Puker…what was I to do???

I know what to do…there are a handful more festivals still to submit to, there are a few “tweaks” to the film that I still want to make, Maria and I will be organizing the screening…this journey is by far not over.  And after all that I can finally get back to the absolutely thrilling stories I am writing (I can’t WAIT to tell the world about those).  Oh yeah…and I need to keep going to work.  But all of that doesn’t blunt the sensation that a piece of me is now out there for the world to see, judge, love or hate.

And I am ok with that…I think.

Puker has been let loose on the world!  KICK ASS, PUKER!!

Puker DVD with one of my favorite Puker pics (love the red shorts; photo by Bruce Adams/Sim Hickman)

So I Googled Tim.  I came up with very little…of course there was his Facebook page and I found some blog threads referencing his days pounding the concrete as a bike messenger in D.C. as a young adult.  I knew I had to be missing something, since the Thrasher story didn’t even pop up in my search.  So I began flipping through old skate photos of Tim posted on Facebook by his friends.  Immediately, it became very clear to me that the guy was phenomenal back in the day.  And in the caption of these photos, I saw it…the reason why my search for information on this phenomenal skater was fruitless thus far.  These were not pictures of Tim Whistler per se… these were pictures of the legendary ‘PUKER‘. 

My 47-year old friend Tim, husband, plumber, cat-lover, is Puker.  And after a devastating injury and a long, dark period of substance abuse and disillusionment, Puker is skating again.

I have a hard time thinking of something more inspiring than his story.  And it is my great pleasure to tell it in this form.

(Thanks, Tim.)

~Kim

Click on the photo below to watch a short teaser for the documentary entitled ‘Puker’.

And what a gorgeous space it is…just ask Simon…

A Well-Behaved Simon

And so it ends…my thoughts from a renovation.  For now anyway…until we get Dave to redo the bathroom. 

~ Kim

Olivia went out to try to pet the ‘grey kitty’ this evening.  Apparently, word has spread and we have had some new visitors, some that happen to look a little like the petite grey kitty when you are looking out in the dark through the window screen…

NOT Simon's Girlfriend

Needless to say, Olivia didn’t pet the ‘grey kitty’.