WRI 2730 Essay #5 Travel/Place: A road-trip named Desire

A road-trip named Desire
(Excerpt)

It was about that time to switch pilots, 3:00 am.  I warn Jess about a certain gas station we should fill up at before we hit the long stretch of highway that separates El Paso and Mexico. The road is empty, no one is sharing it with us this night. 

A couple of hours have passed and I wake up to a nauseating sensation. My stomach rises to my throat and plops back down. This happens a couple of times before I am able to squint my eyes and try to regain focus on the highway ahead. 

Once the broke white lines are broken and not solid I notice something jet across the road in front of us. 

“What the heck was that?!,” I ask. 
“I can’t tell, but there are a few just sprinting across like Japanese kamikazes” Jess replies. 

I watch the shoulder lane and just catch glimpses of little sets of holographic marbles here and there. Then I see a rabbit head pop up from a patch of grass. The bunny takes off and runs, not hops, runs across the highway. They are everywhere! Jess swerves to miss one and almost hits another. I catch one hopping along side the car as we drive 35 mph, these suckers are fast. They are slender like a cat, and stand on their hind legs.
Jack rabbits.  

Jack #1 fakes a left, while Jack #2 sprints in front of the Jeep, Jess swerves to the right. Exasperated, Jess has enough so I offer to drive, the fun is over.  We are both exhausted, we have been on the road for 22 hours. 
I notice the tank, less than a quarter, I don't know how to tell her we passed the last gas station a long long time ago...

I'm lost in my thoughts, playing out all possibilities in case we do run out of gas. Suddenly there is an explosion under the car. The front of the car lifts lightly, and a slight burning stench comes from the AC vents. Jess slows to a stop with a look of terror on her face. 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? It smells like burning!” 
I imagine a ball of fur and blood entangled in the engine or radiator. That can’t be good but what choice do we have but to keep trucking on?

The Jack rabbits are now few and far between and we have spent the last several minutes looking for gas stations on the GPS. There’s a slight jerk in the car. Then a slight tug. Then slowly everything shuts down. It is not instant, it is gradual and peaceful. 

This is it. This is the moment we run out of gas and end up stranded on the side of a highway with crazy jack rabbits near by. Surrounding us is nothing but space, we can see miles out in every direction with mountains in the distance.
Mexico, I think.
It is 4 am.  We are an hour out of my dad’s house in El Paso and about a mile away from the nearest gas station that we aren’t convinced is open. Neither of us have AAA, so I call my dad and ask him to bring us enough gas to get to a gas station. It will take him an hour or so. 

We sit and wait, it’s starting to get cold. I pull clothes out of the suitcase to lay on ourselves to warm up. It is clear that conversation at this point would not make anything better, so we sit in silence. The only audible thing is Jess’ rumbling belly. 

“Gassy?” I ask. 

“No... poopy.” 

“I have napkins in the glove compartment,” I reply. 

I imagine a jack rabbit running up and startling Jess or a desert snake stinging her right on my ass.  

“Maybe if you hold on to the back bumper and angle your ass out, you could go and you wouldn’t get anything on you. But then you’d have to balance yourself with one hand and wipe with the other? Up for it?” 

“I guess so...”Jess replies hesitantly. 

“I’ll be your look out!” I yell as she makes her way to the rear of the car. 

I look out the passenger window to make sure I don’t see an animal charge the car.  About 4 minutes pass and I see Jess turn the corner from the back bumper. She opens the driver side door and climbs in. For a second I wonder what to say to break the ice, because our friendship was now on a whole new level. But I don’t have to say a word, when she shuts her door she looks over and we just burst out in laughter. Insane laughter, gasping for air. The whole day’s events just flood in and we laugh and laugh. Laughing just relaxes me enough to realize I have to poop too. Once the laughter dies down I ask,

“Okay, Jess, explain to me how you did it.” 
She replies, "Well, I kind of ‘leaned’ on the right side of the bumper, so you should take the left side.  Just reach underneath, make sure you get a good grip and pull your pants down. Spread your legs and lean out.  Balance is key.“  

I open the door and get hit with a sharp cool breeze. I reach the back of the car and try really hard not to look at the ground on the right side. I unbutton my pants and lower them. I squat and feel the cold Texas air on my derriere. 
This is not right. 
This is not natural! 
I close my eyes and say a little prayer that I don't end up some animal’s dinner or that I don’t make a terrible mess. I skillfully reach around, a little proud of myself for thinking of doing that in the first place. I take the walk of shame to the passenger door and climb in. It’s warm inside and this time we don’t laugh, we just slouch into our chairs and snuggle to my random pieces of clothing laid around us. 

6am, the sun is rising and I realize my dad should be there any minute. It’s been 24 hours without decent sleep. Just tiny naps here and there for each of us throughout the day. I see my dads car coming toward us on the highway. He slows as he approaches and slowly passes my car. He turns around and pulls up about 20 feet behind us. 
We are both speechless. What do we do? It is inevitable that he will walk to the car from behind and see our little prize pieces. Shit. Shit. Shit. 
He seems to be walking in slow motion, I swear I see a tumbleweed roll by. Once he reaches my door on the passenger side, I roll the window down and smile. 
“Hey, daddy.” 
“Hey, Baby.” 
I get out, Jess gets out of the driver’s side. We walk around to the back of the car. I stand straddling one pile, blocking my dad from seeing it as he walks to his car to get the gas tank.  He returns and starts to unlock the gas cap. Jess stands beside me and we are obnoxiously close to his work space. I know we are acting suspicious. He finishes pouring and tries to set the gas tank down exactly where I stood. The logical thing would have been to move over but I stood still like a statue.  He sets the tank on the ground beside me and turns the car on, it sputters for a second but turns on. I climb in behind the wheel, blare the heat on my frozen toes and wait for my dad to reach his car. The feeling of the car rumble under my feet restored my faith in this road-trip. Onto California!

My dad and I would wait a couple of years before talking about this morning. 

WRI 2730 Essay #3 Eating little Angels

Eating little Angels

The cupcakes were the size of my face. Mini cakes is what they should be called. Each one iced to perfection with a little decorative edible topping.
I've had cupcakes plenty of times before, but never this beautiful, never on a plate and never with a fork. They were almost too beautiful to eat, like little works of art. They sold mini cupcakes that were about a bite each. Dozens of flavors to choose from, I didn't know which flavor to begin my journey with.

Strawberry.

The biggest adult move of my life was to San Diego, CA. Volunteering for a film festival I met my best friend, Jen Petrini. The day we met we strolled through downtown talking about movies, books and food. It was the best first date. We were both new to the area and were looking for some neat new places. Thats' when we came across Heavenly Cupcake, a gourmet cupcake shop.

The year was 2008, Cupcake shops were non existent. As a matter of fact, they were just peeling back the decal on the front window. I peered in and admired the glass case that housed dozens of rows of martial colorful cupcakes ready for war.
We entered the shop to a warm and grateful greeting from the boulangere. The air had a texture to it, floating powdered sugar looking to cling to my nose hair.

"Would you care to sample our signature Snickers Cupcake?"

"Why yes, I would to."

There were little halos on each and every cupcake. It was like eating little angels.

Cupcakes became my new obsession. Every day Jen and I would venture out as far as LA to find new bakeries opening up. We were both unemployed but never felt guilty about spending a few dollars on coffee and a tasty sweet.

I'll never forget the best cupcake I ever had. A vanilla cupcake with flecks of edible gold in the batter, a butter cream icing perfectly sweetened. Dipped in a chocolate ganache. Jen's favorite, a pink champagne cupcake atop with a champagne infused icing. We never got the same and we always shared.


This interest we shared would prevail the most difficult obstacle: proximity. I moved back to NC after a few short years which ended our discovery adventures but we stayed in touch. Every fall I would return to San Diego to work for the Film Festival with Jen.

It takes a little while for West Coast trends to find it's way to the East, but it wasn't long that my hometown, Fayetteville, opened it's first Cupcake shop: The Cupcake Gallery. Who was there opening day? Yours truly.


Each bakery we've been to seems better than the previous and they only seem to get better and better. But we always find ourselves returning to Heaven. Heavenly Cupcake that is, it was the first and it never let us down.

http://www.heavenlycupcake.com/

Bedtime Stories (2008)

Pinhead

I really enjoy Thursday's World Cinema, it's a class on History, Film AND I get to see the entire second class! I don't realize how much I miss them until I'm in the class. All the familiar faces in a school of very new [first year] faces. The class is from 7-11pm and I sit in the front row so I don't distract myself. I have to turn around and break my neck to see everyone, but it's so worth it!
The theater we are in for Visual Storytelling and World Cinema is a lot smaller than the 'Main Theatre' we were in for American Cinema last year. The screens is smaller too. "/
I miss it.

Hanging out in World Cinema

Running out during a monsoon

I fall in love with my Creative Writing class more and more every Tuesday and Thursday. There are some very charming and funny people in there with some very entertaining stories. And that's pretty much all we do in that class. Tell stories and read essays we've written. 

The professor is full of these great pieces of advice and very inspiring quotes. [And we all know how much I love quotes.]

In producing we are practicing pitches and talking about pitching and a lot of other interesting and hilarious things. (Thanks to one mister Bob Goth). Last week I pitched with my  

"Christene Hurley, 28, takes criticism well." Is what I'm aiming for. 

Over the weekend the Directing students went to UNCG for a casting call.  Most of the drama students came out in pairs and acted out a scene. The purpose of this audition was for us to find actors for our projects throughout the year and to see what a casting call can be like...

Ruthless. 

What is this mysterious yellow fungus that appears in my front yard every other day? Google calls it something like dog vomit fungus. 

The first film I'm crewing on is Old Dogs which shoots in a couple of weeks. I'm a 2nd 2nd AD so my job will be mostly on set working under one mister Jeremiah Cullen. We're having our first pre production meeting this week (I'm making cupcakes for it!)

In the mean time I'm in pre production working for construction in the Art Department for U-666. We are building a submarine. I felt so accomplished after my first full day of building because I used equipment that could have easily ended my life. It was exhilarating but 5:00 couldn't have come sooner.    Once I was excused I sneezed sawdust for hours and inspected my newly acquired bruises. 

The skeleton of the u-boat

Visual Storytelling is becoming a class of some really awesome shorts:

Split screen: A Love Story

Gulp' is a short film created by Sumo Science at Aardman, depicting a fisherman going about his daily catch. Shot on location at Pendine Beach in South Wales, every frame of this stop-motion animation was shot using a Nokia N8, with its 12 megapixel camera and Carl Zeiss optics. The film has broken a world record for the 'largest stop-motion animation set', with the largest scene stretching over 11,000 square feet. 

A cool short on one point perspective. All Kubrick films

3 guys, 44 days, 11 countries, 18 flights, 38 thousand miles, an exploding volcano, 2 cameras and almost a terabyte of footage... all to turn 3 ambitious linear concepts based on movement, learning and food ....into 3 beautiful and hopefully compelling short films.....

= a trip of a lifetime.

move, eat, learn

Tarantino Shot "from below"

Surface: A Film from underneath

Le Miroir

Le Miroir tells the story of a man - in the sense of the human being - which passes from childhood to the status of "old man", the time to freshen up.

WRI 2730 Essay #2- America is my country and Paris is my hometown

“America is my country and Paris is my hometown.” -Gertrude Stein

Did you know Paris is the most visited city in the world?ª

It may be the way Paris is perceived by the hopeless romantic. How it is depicted in romantic comedies, or how it is written by famous writers and poets. Regardless, I cant remember a time I wasn't consumed by the charm the French culture offers. I am a French Enthusiast. An enthusiast, by definition, is a person who is highly interested in a particular subject, and I am very interested in France. While I was in high school or getting my undergrad, I was occasionally assigned a report for various classes on a country. It never failed, I always chose Paris. I had an elaborate poster board with glitter and pictures and even a pop out Eiffel Tower. I used a CD that played Louise Armstrong's La Vie en Rose. I had all the knowledge in the world about this city, but lacked the actual experience of ever having been there. 

Did you know France produces over 400 types of cheeses?ª
Cheese may very well be my favorite edible thing in the world. As a kid I could finish an entire block of cheddar cheese; as an adult, I know better. But that there can be 400 variations of cheese and in one country? That makes me want to try everyone. French cuisine is most foreign to me. Growing up in a Puerto Rican household, I ate rice not couscous. We ate flan not soufflé. But I look for it. Any chance I get at a restaurant, I'll order it just to try it. 

“An artist has no home in Europe except in Paris.” - Friedrich Nietzche

Did you know the first film(s) were created in France?

When learning the fundamentals of film we are taught that some pioneers to cinema were The Lumiere Brothers and Georges Meilies. I’ve always known there was more artist in me than scientist. Any form of art felt cathartic when I was younger. There wasn’t any one thing I was great at, just good at a lot of little things. So as I got older an fell more and more in love with film, so did my love and obsession for Paris. 

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” - Ernest Hemingway

Did you know it’s illegal to kiss on railways in France?ª

Spring break 2004. I was going to Paris. We had 10 days to travel in Europe and the first stop was Paris, then Germany, then Rome. We were on the first plane leaving RDU on its way to Dulles Airport when the pilot, over the intercom, explains that we are turning around because the engine is overheating and needs tending to. Not a problem, we’ll just get on the next flight and hope the connecting flights aren't too affected by this. 

Of course, there is no flight out that will make connecting flights to Germany to meet my dad until 3 days later. We still made it to Europe, only the France portion of our trip had to be sacrificed. I kept my chin up as much as I could accepting there was nothing we could do, but a dark cloud hung over my trip.  

A post I wrote recently about Paris
http://christenes-dailies.blogspot.com/2012/07/paris-je-taime-2006.html

The following are the sites I found with fun facts about France. There is a chance none of them are true. But this piece wasn't about the facts. It's about possibility so put that in your back pocket.

ª-http://www.parisdigest.com/information/facts.htm

ªhttp://confessedtravelholic.com/2011/05/69-fun-facts-about-france-2.html

ªhttp://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/4678744/Kissing-banned-at-Warrington-railway-station.html

Orphans (2012)

Click below to watch our promotion video

https://vimeo.com/48779103

Our Story

Orphans is a film about fathers and sons, life and death, and the courage to live and die honorably. 

The story follows a young man named Bobby, who has been charged with grand larceny and imprisoned in the North Carolina State Penitentiary. Upon entering his cell, he meets Richard, a rather quiet man with a knack for creating uncomfortable situations. They begin a game of chess, playing on a board they’ve found in corner of the cell. But as the game goes on, Bobby begins to suspect that Richard may carry a dark secret, a secret that could permanently alter the course of Bobby’s future.

What We Need

In order to make this film a reality, we need $3,500 for camera rental, grip and lighting equipment, art department, costumes, food, locations, permits, festivals, etc.

Why It Matters

Orphans is a story that speaks directly to families who have been made victims of rape or parental imprisonment. Our hope is that this film will raise awareness and support for such social injustices. 

Other Ways You Can Help

We understand that not everyone can contribute financially. However, you are just as helpful when you share our promo video and this page. Every click counts to help us achieve our goal.

Our Team

Writer/Director: JACK CASWELL

Producer: CHRISTENE HURLEY

Director of Photography: CHRIS ELLISON

Production Designer: JUBILATE COX

Composer: JUSTIN NELMS

Pass this on!!!

WRI 2730- Essay # 1: Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus

Self-contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus

Equipment is packed, legs are shaved and caffeine has been ingested. Time of departure: 5:00am. 

After a short drive we arrive at a dive shop. Immediately I want to own everything I see, I fantasize about diving every weekend with my own equipment. Taking days off of work to go on very elaborate diving excursions. I notice a pair of pink snorkels, those will be mine. 

In 2009 I was 25 years old and suffering from quarter life crisis. I had a co-worker friend who would share fantasies of doing really cool things. We took rock climbing lessons together and wrote list after list of things we could do. Business was good so I took the extra cash I was making and decided to take up a new hobby.

Scuba diving.

I signed up with my co-worker, Jan who was conveniently dating a scuba diving instructor, who was also a pilot and a motorcycle instructor, oh, and my land lord. Timing was perfect.

There were about a weeks worth of classes where Jan was very close to giving up. She has issues with taking orders from her boyfriends, like “listen” or “pay attention.” There were a few instances where she quit but was on board again by morning. Nothing a little wining and dining couldn’t fix. 

We train in the shallow end of a private pool, first with the snorkel. Just to get comfortable with “living” under water. I lived in Hawaii when I was younger and spent a lot of time in a snorkel. This was very different, not only because I was in a pool, but because I was preparing for something. My mind was in a very different place. I swam away for a second to get away from the very panicked Jan. I wanted to think for a second, take advantage of the silence. The only sound was my breath through a plastic tube and my heartbeat coming from my head. My breaths were short and fast at first then rhythmic once I coaxed myself to calm. 

Why was I doing this? 
Was I really doing this for myself or for bragging rights? 
How many people did I know who dove? 
Does that matter? 
Is bragging about diving worth the $400 it took to get to the pool with a snorkel? 

Bottom line is there’s no going back. If for nothing else, than the nonrefundable deposit.

We pull up to the quarry and my first thought is how murky the water looks. I hear there's a ship at the bottom. I take my camera out to document this whole experience snap a couple of pictures with the quarry as the back drop and get into focus mode, after all I could die. 

The golf cart shuttle takes a hand full of us who are diving to the edge of the water where we will prepare ourselves. I grab my wet suit and head to the bathroom with Jan. Trying to put that god dammed thing on was the most horrific experience of my life. In the 20 minutes it took to slip it on, I had an epiphany. I know exactly what Ms. Kubler Ross felt when writing On Death and Dying. I myself, experienced denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, all in a public restroom, and all in front of a very traumatized Jan. 

Irritated, anxious and nauseous, I put the rest of my equipment on which weighed about 50 lbs. Waddling to the pier with my fins I pose for one more quick picture. 

In the dichotomy of people who jump in the water and people who take there time, I am the latter. With the skin tight wet suit and heavy equipment I didn’t have a choice but to saunter. So saunter I did, until the water reached my chin. We waded around absorbing water and the last bit of class we needed before we went under. My heart is racing for that moment I’m breathing underwater. Then my head goes under and I can see clearly. Fish swim by and seaweed sways below me. Bubbles release from every ones regulators. That is the moment I realized why I decided to do this. Because it was fucking cool. 

Diving Instructor, Mark Chandler
RIP my friend. 

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)

It's the little things in life, they say.  
Little things like catching your sibling bosses catching up over breakfast before a very long shift. 

I'm a mentor this year, a few upperclassmen get to pair up with the first years and pretty much take them under their wing. I chose section 3, of course. Being a tripod alumni, myself. This guys seem like some really cool cats. 

I don't get a lot of free time, but when I do I like to make jewelry. I recently found an exciting piece to make. 

http://www.etsy.com/people/christenehurley?ref=si_pr