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Satellite the Movie

satellite |ˈsatlˌīt| [usu. as adj. ] something that is separated from or on the periphery of something else but is never the less dependent on or controlled by it

Scott is better known by his sobriquet, “Satellite”. He got branded this title by past coworkers who thought he was so far out there. Though in another sense he orbits me, dependent on my kind heart that saves him from himself, but more and more I feel I am caught in his gravitational pull; somehow everyone gets sucked in, involuntarily along for the ride.

Satellite has never met a stranger he didn’t know. People will talk to you, really listen to you when you tell them you’re making a movie. It’s like when you tell someone you’re dying. They are even more captivated because they usually want to be a part of the film. In this media fueled society we all want to be on the silver screen or at least the computer screen. It’s human instinct to ask someone what they “do” so within the first minute he has the stranger drawn in to his world. They exchange numbers by the end and he has effortlessly lifted the digits of some very attractive girls who think they’ll be the next Scarlett Johansson.


Satellite plays the eccentric filmmaker well. Now that he carries around a practical guide to filming, editing, and etc, people come up to him with aroused curiosity. The jokes on them. If they bothered to  read his chicken scratch they would find no plot, no characters, no real conflict, just a stream of incoherent consciousness rambled to paper. The so-called script is a way to funnel his ADHD.

Satellite is the kind of person who always makes excuses. He has this arbitrary due date for his goals which keeps him from living in the present. He goes on about all the things he wants to accomplish, a grand story to tell. Satellite might as well tell someone he’s dying. He’s pushing 40 with delusions of grandeur.

He’s really not afraid of dying, just afraid of not really living.


BE SADDLED WITH: burdened with someone or something

Might as well go for broke, cause that’s what we are anyway. America in general that is. At least that’s what my roommate Scott believes. He also thinks that our burdens will enlighten us. Does returning back home constitute as failure?

We got 45 dollars to spend at the grocery store and Scott is filling the cart like a lotto winner. When I tell him to put things back, that we’ll never make it, he just smiles and says we’ll make it. As I start to explain simple math to him, he argues that the worst that could happen is returning a couple of items back to the aisles. So we’re at the check out counter, and lo and behold, we’re over the limit. We return food, though; the cashier feels sorry for us and lets us keep the ground beef.

We were supposed to have a little money left over for gas. The car is on empty and he needs to make it to a job fair the next day. I tell him to return some groceries and use the money for gas. After careful reconsideration, I try to talk him out of taking the food back because I’m hungry. Especially the shredded cheese, it’s very versatile because you can put it on anything. Also, I don’t believe he can land a job. We compromise and he picks the most expensive things to return, but there’s a problem. The milk is half drank by now. Simple solution: fill the milk back up with water, tell the store he tasted it, and complain that it went bad (spoiled) before purchase. Kids, please try this at home.

Scott has an interview with a tea store in the mall. I quiz him on types of tea. He thinks Earl Grey Tea is Mr. T’s brother. Maybe he can get me a job there too.