It Started with Chicken Parm

I sat down to eat my dinner brought to me by Freshly (a company I highly recommend), and as I sat staring at my delicious chicken parmesan, I was instantly transported to the past.

I remembered the very first time I ate chicken parm and what an event that was for me. And then I knew, this would be one of those moments that has to end up in the show based largely on my life, The Fortnight.

Although it's quite difficult still for me to consider myself a writer, I am very much aware of where my inspiration comes from and the moments that will ultimately be the basis of my storytelling. My emotions surrounding people are always connected to things. I'm not materialistic; I don't search to acquire many things to find myself fulfilled and happy, but I do very much put emotional attachment into things and places, i.e. chicken parm. I keep a 30+ year old blanket that my mom made for me. I sleep with a pillow that my cat used for four years because he's now passed into kitty heaven. These are the types of things I find some sort of value in I suppose. But how does that bring us to chicken parm? I'm getting there, I promise.

If you've already seen the first season of The Fortnight, now streaming on Youtube, this might make sense to you. Or maybe you're not there yet. Maybe you're thinking it seems as if Peyton is only attached to Luca, Victor and Isabelle. Oh, and that hoodie. And maybe that Macbook. Ah, there it is. Things. It's quite evident in this series that Peyton's emotional investments are largely in things because of the people in which she found herself emotionally invested. This correlates directly with my own life experience.

She's associated these objects with the people and events that meant the most to her, and while she doesn't deal well with change, it's very much a reason to keep these things close.

It equates to refusing to listen to songs because they remind you of your ex, or secretly listening to them alone in the dark and sobbing because you want to remember the good stuff forever. Even. When. They. Suck.

My experience writing the show evolved into to me literally remembering things, looking around at objects, and figuring out what makes my heart feel. What are those ordinary objects that mean way more to me than they probably should? I'm talking about even the craziest items that are the last thing you'd possibly imagine: records, a movie poster, a note card, notebooks and cookies, a pillow, a tie dye shirt, a piece of pizza, a bandana, a unicycle. Is this making more sense now?

Now back to chicken parm. I'm very much in the midst of finding my inspiration and voice for season 2. It's the time where I force myself to dig deep into those memories I'd thrown away or, more realistically, pushed deep deep down and locked away. Pulling these memories and items out means that things are sometimes new and fresh again. Emotions are new and fresh.

There's a plethora of stories left to tell for Peyton, Luca, Isabelle, Victor, Jaylin and Kacie. There are new characters to introduce. But there are also more items for me to discover again. Chicken parm.

I didn't grow up with a lot, but never wanted for more. I didn't realize how much I did or didn't have until I was older and more removed from my homelife. But this meant that I hadn't tried things like chicken parmesan. No, not at all. I thought it was what only the rich people ate, and we definitely weren't that.

Cut to college. I'm visiting the real life Luca after a bit of time not seeing her. If you've seen the show, this is well after her first apartment that we see in episode 5, but right before the devastating goodbye in episode 14. She'd just moved away from our university to attend the nursing part of her schooling. This required her to move more than 40 minutes away from my location at school. I was fine. Sure. She asked me to come and see her, meet her roommates, take in all that her new life had to offer. So, I did.

I knew of the area in which she resided, but it was one that had always been out of reach for someone like me. Remember, I came from nothing. And this wasn't a case of living on the wrong side of the tracks; this was a case of we didn't even consider living in that city because it was out of our league. I didn't even feel that I belonged simply driving through it.

Please note, I now drive through Beverly Hills, and I don't give a fu*k. My thirties have allowed me to stop caring about those things.

So, visiting real life Luca in this city was a step out of my comfort zone. But I did it because, love, duh. I arrived and felt immediately overcome with the joy of simply being in her same space, so much so that I forgot all about where we were. We caught up, timid and awkward all the while, dancing around where we'd been, what we should say, what we shouldn't.

Eventually, I became to tease myself with the idea that this could be the new normal. What is normal even? But I guess it would be our version of it: me, getting in the car, making the trek, opening her door as if it were my own... and then chicken parm fu*king ruined that for me.

She asked if I'd stay for dinner. I said yes, but figured we'd eat what college kids do, things I'd eaten with her at her former apartment: easy mac, ramen, etc. No, we were having chicken parm. Now, it wasn't fancy by any means, but it was freaking chicken parm. As I saw her cook and assemble this chicken parm while glancing at me sideways, a bit coy and then chatting with her in-and-out of the apartment roommates, I had this insane out of body experience. Things sounded very far off, distant and muffled. I looked at these people living in this domain, and saw me, on the outskirts just trying to claw my way into this scenario for the long term. I didn't belong there. I didn't know why, but I knew I didn't fit into this equation. I looked and her and very much felt this was going to be one of the last times that this would be normal for us. Instantly, I heard this Third Eye Blind song, The Background, in my head. I could so clearly hear Stephan Jenkins singing

Summer time and the wind is blowing outside In lower Chelsea and I don't know What I'm doing in this city The sun is always in my eyes It crashes through the windows And I'm sleeping on the couch When I came to visit you That's when I knew I could never Have you

I knew that before you did Still I'm the one who's stupid And there's this burning Like there's always been

People often say they wish they knew when they were going to see someone for the last time so that they could really take it in and experience it to its fullest. I took it all in. I knew this was going to come to an end. I didn't know when or where. So I just breathed it in. Breathe it in I did. And I ate the chicken parm and fu*king love/hated every single moment of it.

So, chicken parm. Chicken parm. Now you see where I was transported this evening at dinner: to a simpler, and yet at the same time, more confusing era of my life. Chicken parm and a thousand other things will bring to me the next wave of stories that I will ultimately bring to you. I don't know that it's a given that chicken parm will have it's 15 minutes of fame in season 2, but in starting this blog, I committed to revealing aspects of my creative process. So here it is.

If it does make it, you can smile and know you read it here first. If it ends up on the writing/cutting room floor, then you have a great example of how things don't always pan out in filmmaking. But I for sure have the beginnings of some great inspiration for bringing season 2 into the world.

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