Mulling over my personal statement for the AFTRS application. I need to sell myself to the examiners in a 3 minute video presentation. Why me, and not one of the other hundred applicants? I have to get them excited about my prospects. I need to convince them that I have the drive and vision to be a successful director. I must be charismatic, exuberant, confident and inspirational. All the things we idealise in youth. What will I say to the camera? Perhaps a little something like this?

My name is nereis, I was born in Australia 25 years ago, to Malaysian-Chinese immigrants. I grew up in Melbourne and Sydney, living in the suburbs but spending most weekends on the family farm. I went to an Agricultural high school and did well enough to receive a Co-op scholarship in Business Information Technology. But my favourite subjects at school were English and visual arts, and even as I was studying Business and Information Systems I was writing filmscripts and reviewing films for the student paper. I was two years into my degree and working fulltime at the Stock Exchange as a computer programmer, when I saw Hal Hartley's Trust and decided to change course. I was quite unhappy at the time. I was attending uni at nights, and writing my scripts on the train to and from work. Despite the prestige of the scholarship, I felt I wasn't getting the exciting and collegiate university experience that I wanted. But most of all, it was the fact that Hal Hartley worked in a construction company for two years before enrolling in filmschool and becoming a filmmaker, that made me realise it wasn't too late for me to become one too.

So I gave up my scholarship and switched to Arts to follow this dream. Out of all the artistic mediums, I feel film excites the most senses, it best captures the mind's eye. I've been writing and making short films for 5 years now, and whilst I'm still not a great filmmaker, I feel I have the persistance and dedication to become one. I want to make films that create transcendental moments, moments of joy, moments that make others want to tell their stories. I hope to craft romantic, humanistic stories, like that of the Italian and Japanese neo-realists, but with the inventive, playful style of the French new wave and Hong Kong action flicks. My key issues and themes revolve around globalism and cultural conflict - the displacement and struggle of individuals to negotiate some measure of happiness in a rapidly changing world. But I'd also like to explore more universal concepts of desire, duty and destiny - how these divergent forces create compromised identities and dramatic chains of events.

I want people to fall in love with my characters, and be moved by the transitory beauty of the images I create. I want to surprise them with ideas and emotions, thrill them with imaginative associations and stylistic leaps of faith. Above all, I want to tell stories with sincerity. I think this is one of the great strengths of Australian cinema - the honesty and integrity we bring to our films. There is a sense of love and pride in each movie we produce. These are not mere works of entertainment but expressions of our culture and ability. Each Australian film has a sense of its own importance - there's a reverence that resonates even in our most commercial films. However, as a young country with a boutique film industry, we have a lot of room to grow. Our prospects are fantastic. Globalism and multiculturalism have had a massive social impact on our culture and identity, creating many questions that need to be investigated, new stories that need to be told. We have yet to document many aspects of this cultural sea-change, and I think it is this need that will drive an exciting new wave in Australian filmmaking.

I have a long way to go before I can contribute to this industry. I have yet to learn how to block a scene effectively, get the most out of my actors and master the technical aspects of this craft. I hope AFTRS can help me achieve these goals, by providing me with mentors and collaborators that I can learn from. In 5 years time I hope to be making my first feature, exhibiting my work at film festivals around the world, and helping others make their films. Or at the very least, earning enough money to support my writing and filmmaking projects. For me, that would be happiness.

Listening to Danger's anthem and typing like a speed-freak. Lately, the impulse to blog has been closely tied to mp3-inspiration. I've been doing a lot of downloading as I work on my creative proposal for the AFTRS application. My "killer treatment" is coming along quite nicely. I now have a good storyline with developed characters. It's a weird mix of reality and fiction, as was my last film. I like this approach because you can document your friends and certain aspects of their reality within a dramatic creation.

A nasty piece of reality is unfolding at work. Looks like the latest round of workforce reductions is going to claim me as a victim. One of my four remaining colleagues was made redundant last week, setting the scene for my own forced exit. The timing is not bad actually, as I need more time to prepare my AFTRS application! But I'm worried about cashflow and career direction, now that the rug is beginning to slip. My sideline web-design business is beginning to show promise, but not enough to be a viable safety net. Luckily I've lined up a job interview for a trafficking/planning position with a large advertising agency. It's not exactly what I want to do but it's a glamour agency with big clients and the opportunity to move around, or so I hope. On the downside, campaign trafficking is a classic shit-kicking job and pays significantly less than what I get now. Still, I'm excited! If I get offered this job I'm going to take it, redundancy or no redundancy. This place is dead anyways! Bring on the next episode.

Paul Simon's singing about wanting to go to Graceland, and for some reason, I feel like I know what he means. I went to Graceland today. The sun was out and I was missing my women's sunglasses, but it's a condition of my rehabilitation that I give up my sickboy accessories. Had lunch with Nath in Crows Nest and drove out to the AFTRS to clarify a few things about my application. In the end there wasn't much clarification to be had. The student centre advised me to "do whatever you think would improve your application." In other words, the more work you put in, the greater your chances of getting in. Not quite the answer I wanted to hear, with only two weeks left on the clock, and fulltime work about to resume next Monday. To top it all, my little sideline web-design business is finally beginning to generate some projects... 3 of them in fact, due mid-September. There's no rest for the wicked.

I need to draw on some of Kweli's persistance, dedication, and concentrate on getting my application in on time. Now that the pennicillin is kicking in, the pressure is on to make up for lost time. I'll need to be firing on all cylinders and then some. From the look of the other candidates queued up in the student centre, the competition will be fierce. When I asked the helpdesk if people were submitting scripts and storyboards, or just a plot synopsis for the creative proposal component, this snooty nerd behind me told me to write a treatment, not a synopsis. I gave him "Blue Steel" and blew my nose.

Proceeding to the AFTRS library, I booked a screening room and watched a few short films by Ivan Sen, Cate Shortland and Teck Tan - 3 recent directing graduates whom I greatly admire. Watching their work was both impressive and scary. I'm not capable of such exemplary filmmaking, but the thought that AFTRS can train me up to that level justifies everything I am now struggling with. I've decided to write to Teck Tan and volunteer to work as an assistant on any of his future projects, if he'll take me on. Aimee at SAPFF says she'll help me get his contact details.

Now the big question is, can I get all this done in two weeks of evenings and weekends?
1) write, shoot and edit a 3 min personal statement
2) recut my honours film to make it look more professional
3) write, shoot and edit a 3 min critique of my work to date
4) write a killer treatment for a new short film

Can I get some action from the back section? Pull the finger out nereis! It's time to do some real work.

Flame on! I'm gone!

Listening to Akhenaton rap in French about God knows what. His mysterious hiphop argot is strangely soothing... maybe because I don't have to think to enjoy the lyrics.

I close my eyes but they still feel like they're popping out of my head. I've got blood in my snot and a headache that just won't go away. Looks like I was premature with the declaration of Stayin Alive... the T-cells might have won the battle but they were so busy celebrating on Friday night they lost the war. The doctor says I've shaken off the virus but have now come down with a bacterial "Upper Respiratory Tract Infection." In other words they have no idea what it is, but it's not the flu. And to top it all my wisdom teeth are descending. I'm in a world of pain!!!

Application status: not good.
I've been in bed for 9 days now, and not in a good way, like, say, Pam & Tommy's honeymoon. I've tried reading books, watching DVD's, anything to keep the little momentum I had going. But it's futile - even the Fresh Prince of Bel Air makes my head hurt. Yesterday I started taking pennicillin. Noted some small improvement today. Forced myself to get out of bed and get some work done. Blogging is a start... I haven't had much human contact in the last few days... so not enough sympathy! Need to share my misfortune around and move on.

As my braincells die around me, I've had little bursts of inspiration. Part of the application is a personal statement about my ambitions, what I want to contribute to the Australian film industry and how I think AFTRS can help me get there. I also have to pitch a film that I would like to make. I'm not sure whether this is a supposed to be a short film or a feature film, but I've woken up in the middle of the night twice now with ideas for this project.

My starting point for the personal statement is that as an Asian-Australian, there are not many Australian films that I can identify with. Most Aussie films are about our colourful criminal underground or moody identity/reconciliation pieces set in the Outback or the Bush. There is a distinct lack of Asians in the Australian media, but like the Greeks and Italians before us, our time must come. So I would like to help build this AA new wave by making playful, humanist films about Asian youth in the cities, as well as stories of Goldrush diggers, pearl divers, cane cutters, islanders, students and tourists.

Ideally my career path would follow that of Ang Lee. After representing his peeps in his early films, Ang was able to escape from his pigeonhole as an self-conscious Asian director and make films that appealed to a broader audience. Similarly, I would like to make a film about the horse racing industry in the 1950s, in the age before drug testing, when jockeys and trainers got away with race-fixing and murder. I'm also fascinated by international airports, where the drama is played out by a constantly changing set of walk-on characters.

I'm actually very passionate about Australian film. I like how our films strive for some truth or sincerity. There is a goodness about them... perhaps the innocence of a young nation coming to terms with itself. Our national cinema follows a more European than Hollywood model, in that it is relies more on colourful characters and relationship-based stories, rather than novelty and marketing. To put it another way, Australian films have less bullshit and more heart. For these reasons, my favourite Aussie films are Thank God He Met Lizzie, Bliss, Newsfront, Gallipoli, Chopper, Lantana, Two Hands, Walkabout and Last Days of Chez Nous.

I'm aliiiiiive! Long live the T-cell! I've been laid out horizontal for the last 4 days, at war with the flu virus from hell. Today is the first time this week that I've been able to read and write without causing brain damage to myself. Come to think of it, it's been a week of consistent brain damage, thanks to some glorious stacks and drunken antics down in the Snowies. I spent the weekend living it up at Blue Cow, trying to remember how to ski after not having performed the act in 10 years, and enjoying the love of the Westside massive in what was undeniably the biggest bender of my life. Out west they like to show you love by holding you to the floor and forcing you to drink spirits straight from the bottle, despite slurred protestations that you're already paralytic and can't even stand up to take a piss... or something to that effect.

Anyway I felt the love and even got to give some of it back at the end of the night when I generously projectile vomited on a friend who was trying to tuck me into bed for the third time, ruining her favourite pair of jeans. I haven't hurled like that since I drank a whole magnum of cheap champagne at an end of semester philosophy party. I remember the Nietzsche video making more and more sense as the afternoon progressed, and having great intellectual difficulty walking home to my ice-cream bucket. Which I promptly filled 4 times, no less. Since that profound moment of exorcism I've been unable to even sniff champagne, that nasty bourgeois plonk, without turning green. The Neech would've been proud.

But I have to say Philosophy Piss-up 1997, had nothing on Slope Invasion 2002. This was debauchery of the purest kind, a la Antonioni's Blow Out, minus a few prostitutes and deaths. And in the highly competitive "I'm sooooo drunk" stakes, vomitting on Teresa's jeans actually put me one up on everyone else. I had miraculously, gained some uber-male cred for soiling designer female clothing with my highly flammable bile. Yet despite the accolades of the morning after, guilt pressed itself upon my heart. Before I could even sober up, the jeans had been washed and sterilised, there was nothing I could do to atone. Should I offer to buy her new jeans? That would be one very expensive hurl. I settled on a more pragmatic course of action, and vowed to lie in wait for that fateful day, when I could return the favour by proferring my trouser leg at a time of great need.

Ah, such chivalry is worthy of poetry...

Feel like I should be happy going into this 2 week holiday and writing happy things, but when the sea changes it's never calm. Returning to the snows this weekend with the westside massive, really looking forward to it and to the two weeks of concentrated creativity that must follow as I prepare my AFTRS application. Trying to cram myself with fresh TV, books and music, in preparation for this challenge. Seeking that old confidence, trying to visualise the dream. But still lacking mental vitality... where has it gone?

Stop dreaming / People who say that are blaspheming / They're doing 9-5 and moaning / And they don't want you succeeding when they've blown it.

Meanwhile Mike is back from the UK for the exact 2 weeks that I'm off work. He sounds like he's having the time of his life, bringing home the paper from the land of Sterling. Can't help reflecting on where I'd be if hadn't left BIT back in 96. The choices we make... Forks and consequences. Comparing makes it hard to keep the faith. I read in a stock trading book that everyone gets what they want, in the end. If they lose money, it's because subconsciously they didn't really want to win. Or rather, they didn't want to lose a lot of money, so they had to lose it all. What do I really want? Is my subconscious leading me down the wrong path? Rhetorical questions. It's all about happiness, and who's to say who's happier?

One thing I've learnt in my current job - never confuse effort with results. The boss likes to use this to deny people their bonus. No one cares how hard you tried if you've got nothing to show for it. You have to stay focused on results, not preparation or dreams or anything else. No one deserves it, but someone's gonna feel the gold and the others get their heads flown. Why shouldn't it be you? Think of your idols, who are they? They too dreamt about their day. You have to keep making positive steps and avoid being lightweight. That's what keepin it real, really means.

My uncle wants to bring his family of 6 to Australia. He's coming in under the business immigration plan, which requires him to turnover a minimum of $200k a year and employ at least 3 aussies. So he plans to open a bakery or takeaway joint and take me under his wing. Not sure that's what I want, but it's not always about what I want. Besides, a family business isn't too different from climbing the ladder. If anything, you've got more motivation to put your back into it. Who knows? Maybe what he wants is what I want, and I just don't know it yet.

It amuses me that I actually want to work harder. But it's true. Soldiering under a stick is boring. Put a bigger carrot in front of me and I will perform. It's all about respect. Respect for yourself, the work and your boss. Currently, I can't think of any good reason why the other two deserve it. Luckily there's lots of potential developments on the horizon. And I'm in good company, so I feel safe, no matter the outcomes. In the meantime, I'm staying focused on my goals, and looking forward to good things.

Simon says "Get the fuck up!"

I haven't been blogging lately. I've been going through a rather flat period, vaguing out on Civ 3 and CS and generally avoiding getting my shit together. My friends have been generous and encouraging, providing me with many enjoyable distractions - soccer games, steamboat, R&B nights, great parties, a weekend of snowboarding. Life has been good. But I've been annoyed with myself for mentally wallowing... am I fattening up as planned or just plain rusting? Certainly, Nereis has been AWOL for over a month, either verbally constipated or chasing the skirts of inner truth. But tonight I got that good feeling, when you know sitting down to write will help disperse the vagueness, get some momentum happening again.

Weighing on my mind is my application for the AFTRS - Australia's national film school. 90% of the time, I'm convinced I don't have a chance of making the cut. I've been reading the bios of recent graduates on the web... I don't fit the MO. I'm not early-30s, white-Australian, with a couple of short films and a few years of lowly-paid industry experience under my belt. And I don't wear a black leather jacket! However, not everyone that gets into AFTRS fit this MO. So I could be a contender, I could be a somebody. My friends have every confidence in me... they're unnerving me with their confidence... who do they think I am? Dawson Leary? Unfortunately my life isn't scripted. I can't be sure there's a happy ending waiting for me...

Readying myself for this year's application I realise just how unprepared I am. I haven't done enough training courses, lived in foreign countries, or worked on other people's productions. I'm about 5 years younger than the average directing graduate. My portfolio is entirely composed of my own creations. The films I've made are not impressive on paper. Any fool can string together a resume with half a dozen home-movies.

On the other hand, I'm Asian, I'm passionate and articulate about film history and theory, and I have first class honours in film studies thanks to a 30min drama I made in 2000. But it's only shot on video, with non-professional actors, and 2 years on, it looks very amateurish in comparison to the $9000 films other candidates have made. Aiiish. I must stop thinking of the obstacles. Like a tight-rope walker, I should imagine myself treading a mere crack in the pavement, instead of a wire suspended 50m in the air. It's all in the mind... I think.

If AFTRS rejects me, I've committed myself to an extended overseas adventure, a year or two waitering, taxi-driving, and doing whatever the fuck it takes to get the interesting experiences I need to draw upon as an independent writer/filmmaker. I will enrol in short courses and volunteer my services non gratis to interesting film productions and sundry artistic projects. In short, I will go out of my way to become the ideal candidate for the filmschool.

And if they still won't take me, I'll do a Ph.D and become an inspirational teacher of film studies like my honours supervisor. Do you know what Ph.D stands for? Or I'll become a professional film critic and gloat over my reviews in the weekend paper. Oh Nereis, you are one smart cookie! As the old adage goes, "Those who can't do, teach, and those who can't teach, write." I don't care. There's more honour in each of those options than never gave it a shot cos he was too chickenshit.

{ An ode to chickenshitness }
Call it pride, but I'm not sure I can give up my taste for money and fine things. With most of my friends working in finance and I.T. there's a real risk I'll end up being the only penniless bastard at Friday night drinks. I won't be able to afford a nice house, a decent car, the kind of freedom that money affords. Am I brave enough to risk a "hand to mouth" existence? The decision to break from the safe and narrow allows no room for compromise. It's either an exciting life of arts and leisure, or a short sojourn into the unmapped territories of failed ambition and back again. Hands up who wants to spend their life hanging around the sets of second-rate films and TV commercials?

{ Reprise: Damn where have we heard that before?! }
Scanning through my blog I realise just how many times I've written about this dilemma. Creativitiy vs. Comfort. I amaze myself. So much clarity in the writing, yet so little action. Where do you want to go today Nereis? The 9-6 shit-kicking is killing you. You're not learning, not being stimulated, instead thinking more and more like a shit-kicker. The void beckons. Bonsoir! Pull it together. Start reading again. Start thinking and writing. Practice your craft. Get out there with the camera and start capturing. What you really want is to make Groundhog Day, not live in it!

"Right mindfulness is essential to any art", I read in The Book of Tea.

Just watched Keeping the Faith for a second time, with the filmmakers commentary on. I find this exercise to be an easy form of education, a way of re-establishing the right mindfulness required for filmmaking. Before this special feature of DVD's, it was difficult to get inside the mind of a filmmaker, to observe the craft and not merely the end product. It took many hours of strenuous decoupage and poring through books like Projections and magazines like Sight and Sound in order to get a sense of this right mindfulness - the ecstatic buzz of things coming together, a rush of ideas, images and emotions, a glimpse of art through the maze of coincidence and process.

Sometimes this maze seems to go on forever, in all directions. Knowing the scale of the challenge facing you is not always such a good thing. Perhaps the only way to get through these challenges is to keep your head down and keep walking. Although it seems a lucky few are given wings to fly above its walls and bluffs, to glide through to the other side.

Right mindfulness is so hard to maintain. The important knowledge rarely falls in your lap. You have to go out into the wildnerness to seek it out, and bring it back to feed the fires of right mindfulness, to stoke the sparks of inspiration. And all this effort can still leave you cold. The temptation to give in to pleasant mediocrity is strong - after all, no one expects this of you except yourself.

The loneliness of embarking on a personal journey. When you start out, you don't know what you will gain, only what you are giving up. The sadness is real. Like meeting soulmates in foreign airports, it's not always easy to leave in the morning.

Ah it's one of those days again. Tired at work. Tired of work. But thankfully, not working. Haven't got much to say these days, have been suffering from mental blanks the size of Cincinnati. Not that I know how big Cincinnati is. in fact I'm not even sure how to spell it. I am avoiding real thought. Yet I must respond to the mewling of my readers. Like a hungry cat, blog readers must be fed regularly, or they drift away and get lost amongst the countless dried leaves.

Went to Yoga last night. It wasn't as silly as I thought it would be. But it felt like I was in church again, watching other people speaking in tongues and entering private trance-like states. I just couldn't open my spine and sit bones to "The Breath" no matter how many demonstrations the teacher gave. My favourite positions were flat on the mat, falling asleep, which I nearly did, except the teacher's somnambulous voice increased my suspicion that she was hypnotising us, or merely filching from people's coats. Yoga is a great scam. At the end of the 90 minute session, we each paid $15 and floated out into the night. I wondered if she would pay any tax on that $300. If only I was more flexible, a lucrative career-change could be in the offing.

The light rain woke me from my yoga-induced psychosis and I headed into the city to meet Disaster for dinner. I complimented him on his German postal worker jacket - designed to be thick and toasty, so as to discourage the Indonesian textile-workers from stealing one for themselves. After a pathetic beef laksa, we ambled down to the Theatre of Dreams to watch the Kimchi vs. Bolognaise game. The Kimchi's were going off, and I lost $10 after betting on Italia to win 2-0. Strangely enough, the Asian solidarity feelings kicked in and I was actually happier for losing. You gotta love those real-life fairytales.

I've been too busy to blog lately, watching the World Cup everyday, helping G move house and partying with the Westside crew. Went to the Opera House yesterday for a studio session of experimental ensemble music headed up by Prop, who don't seem to recognise me anymore now that they're making it. Funny that. Then had a few pints at the Lord Nelson and went home to listen to The Streets.

Been searching for a new job and thinking more about further study in film as well. Got my application for the VCA. Apparently only 1 in 14 applicants get in, so I have to plan my moves carefully. The move to Melbourne is a bit daunting, being neither here nor there, as far as big moves go. I think I'd rather shoot off to the UK for a year or two. But the hardest thing is convincing myself that I've still got what it takes to be a successful filmmaker, whatever that is. Listening to The Streets helps. If a 22 year old bedroom banger from Birmingham can turn out a record like that, anything's possible. Just need to salvage some confidence from my high-rolling uni days and overwrite the more recent wage-slave cynicism and self-doubt. Just tryin' to stay positive...