The Hipster Under the Bed

So...here's that link I promised you:

MY NEW BLOG!!!!

That Just Wouldn't Be Our Style

You all knew this day was coming. You really did. Think about it. I always said it: "I'm not ready to let go of Interlochen...yet. I'm not ready to move on...yet." But here I am, nineteen and in college, writing a blog in which I reference Interlochen Arts Academy fifteen times a post. It's considered a success if I go for one post without mentioning my high school. And you know what? It just hit me today, while I was feeling what I thought to be righteous indignation over a certain friend's insistence that I talk about nothing but Interlochen, that...well...he is kind of right. (But don't let him know I said that, or I'll never hear the end of it.)

You see, everyone, I have this friend. Her name is Mishka. She calls me the Delightful Barnacle. I call her Pretty Damn Amazing, because she is. And one of the things I love about Mishka is that her personality is so distinctive that once you meet her, you know her. Permanently. You do not forget this woman. Trust me. And she has these things, these pop-culture-y things, that you always think of when you think of her--you think of The Brothers Karamazov, you think of Snatch, you think of Sylvia Plath and Lady Lazarus, you think of long dresses and Victorian lace-up boots and cloche hats and elegant cigarette holders. Things of that nature.

Now, if this friend is to be believed, I have my defining bits too...and one giant part of that is made up of Interlochen.

There are things I will never give up, of course. My "thing" will probably always be beatniks, for instance, and I'm okay with that. But I really do need to let go of Interlochen. Because hey, guess what? I am out of high school. Yes, I am. And I've been saying for months and months and months now that I KNOW I'm out of high school and I'm OVER high school and guess what? I wasn't. Not really.

I am now. I am ready to move on.

So, I think you all know where this is going...

It's time to say goodbye to Alien Water Torture.

BUT! It does NOT mean I'm not blogging anymore! Really, I am! Just not here. Because as much as I love this blog, it's another thing that is tying me to high school, and I need to let go of that. I need to stop mourning films like Possession and He's A Rockstar and their lack of success, because guess what? I am going to make more films. I AM making more films. I'm going to make HUNDREDS of films! I am going to make so many films I won't even freaking remember all of them! And I'm going to have a kick-ass time doing it!

But I am not going to keep clinging to Alien Water Torture. That is a film that will never be made, and you know what? I'm not sorry, because that just means that my two lovely imaginary friends (because really, that's all characters are, when you think about it) Gavin and Ronnie will remain pure, just the way I want them. I'll never have to share them or let studio executives make them over. They will always be mine, and I will always love them, and I will never resent what they've become. And this goes for Possession as well--I can accept that film now as part of my AWT universe. I don't mind the way it turned out. It's not going to the Academy any time soon...but it's mine, and I can be proud of it, and I don't resent it anymore.

So it's time for me to leave high school behind. Not all of it, of course--I'll still talk to the friends who haven't graduated yet, and I'll keep wearing my Interlochen sweatervest (much to the confusion of my college friends) and I'll occasionally look up my old pictures and sigh reminiscently. But I'm going to stop longing for the past, and I'm going to stop regretting both things I did and didn't do, and I am going to let go of those old grudges and crushes and silly little dreams that I know now are not meant to come true.

It's time to say good-bye to Alien Water Torture, and say hello to College Avery. She's a nice girl. I think you'll like her...once she figures out how to write a blog without referencing Interlochen 5,000 times in one post. She is still Beatnik Belle, but she has earned other nicknames too. She has been kissed. She has gone to Italy. She has seen eight thousand long-dead bodies prominently displayed on a cave wall and managed to get out of that cave without having a panic attack. She has had her films played on TV. She has gotten thousands of hits on her blogs and movies. She has joined a sorority and been in The Vagina Monologues and gone out after midnight and danced in a thunderstorm at two in the morning. She has met survivors of sexual assault, survivors of school shootings, survivors of hurricanes, people with autism, people with disabilities, gay strippers, Italian artists, British flight attendants, and all kinds of other people who she never thought she would meet. She's still not 100% sure she knows exactly who she is, but she's figuring it out.

I should have done this months ago. But it's okay, because I'm doing it now.

Good-bye, Alien Water Torture.

I'll let you know when my random, wild thoughts have a new home. (Translation: Yes, I will post the URL.)


One last time, for posterity...

STOLEN DIALOGUE

"I'm the best at trees...but I'm the best at slides, too!"

"The magic bathtub? I'm glad you asked!"

Person one: Think about it--who controls the churches?
Person two: Oh my gosh...for a minute there, I thought you asked, 'Who controls the bitches?'

"Why does everyone have cool shutters in this neighborhood? Is that like a requirement for living here?"

"It's just not very masculine to run around Target shouting about how you can't find the perfect pink tutu."

"Special needs turtles are my favorite turtles."

"Does he shout at the window, 'Release the funds!'"

Person one: You're like Diet Coke.
Person two: Are you insinuating that I'm full of aspartame?
Person one: Among other things.

"So when you have a hundred and three fever, you do really weird things...like dream about snuggling with Katy Perry whilst listening to the Friends theme song..."

"If anyone needs me to B.S. a conversation about Japanese tea ceremonies, just let me know. I'm totally down with that."

"I'm flying my Dork Flag today."

Person one: So, what do you think of gay penguins?
Person two: I LOVE GAY PENGUINS!

"I think I've gone over my daily limit when it comes to the word 'fuck.'"

"So on the one hand, there's you, and you won't sleep with anyone who isn't an animated Disney prince, and then there's him, and he has three basic settings: Walk, Talk, and Screw. And you're telling me you can't see any way that this could end badly?"

Person one: Hmm. Can you get chocolate? Chocolate is good. Especially dark chocolate.
Person two: No. I do not want chocolate. I want sex or vodka. It's that simple.

"CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHY I REMIND EVERYONE I MEET OF A WHINY EFFEMINATE SCOTTISH HOBBIT?"

"Update me on the boyfriend. I want a full personality profile, not just what you said so far. I need to know if he's worthy of your time, let alone your virtue...or what's left of it anyway."


And with that, we say a final adieu to Alien Water Torture.

It's been fun. :)

Ten Things Film Students Can Do On Friday Night (Besides Drinking)

Wow, it's been forever, hasn't it? A month, I think? Wow. I fail.

But I have an excuse, I promise you.

You see, my friend and I are making 100 videos in 100 days. Obviously, we are crazy for doing this. We don't care, though--we live for insanity. NORMAL IS BORING. So, my fellow film nerds, please feel free to look up the wackiness that is Alien Water Torture's Video-A-Day on my YouTube, and cheer us on in our looniness.

Meanwhile, here are ten things you (or anyone, really) can do on a weekend instead of getting toasted (or in addition to it, if that happens to be something you enjoy):

1) Grab your best friend, your roommate, your sorority sister, that weird kid who lives down the hall, your RA, or hell, even your history professor and MAKE A FLIPPING MOVIE ALREADY. Seriously, you think the Academy will just knock on your door? Make a movie, win a film festival, get into the Oscars, and then win and live in fame and glory for the remainder of your existence. Couldn't be simpler. ;)

2) Just take your camera and walk around campus. Yes, at night. Put on your night vision, or set your aperture as low (or high) as you need it--and then go wild. Take close-ups of things you never thought of before, like a gutter or a tree root or that weirdly-patterned dirt on your friend's windowpane. And then take wide shots. And then facepalm when you realize what a hipster you're being by wandering around taking photos at night.

3) Unleash your inner Art Nerd: grab a piece of paper and whatever medium is nearest to you (markers, crayons, paint--hell, use gel pens if you have to) and create the most perfect thing you've ever drawn. And then put it on your wall (of your dorm, not Facebook, though you can do that too if you like) so everyone can see your creative genius.

4) If you don't have access to a camera (or, like me, all your memory cards are full), play around with Photobooth, if you have a Mac, or YouCam, if you have a PC. Play with the effects. Mess around with your surroundings. Change hats. Put on goofy sunglasses. Then, either upload it to Facebook so everyone can see how epic you are, or make one of the pictures your profile pic--some of my favorite profile pics came from self-taken computer photos, including the one for my blog.

5) Going off #4, play dress-up. Scrounge around your room. Find something that you think could totally be a costume for a movie. Put it on, and be that character. Then, sit down and write a script or short story from the perspective of that character. (This is a fun way to come up with ideas, if you're stuck on plots or concepts for #1.)

6) IM, text, call, or visit someone. Yes, I know it's lame. But if you interact with a fellow human being even for just a few minutes, you can 1) get all kinds of epic film ideas, 2) potentially make someone's day with just a friendly "Hello," 3) get that lovely warm fuzzy "I just talked to my friend" feeling, or 4) get that warm fuzzy lovely "I just talked to the person I have a superepicmassive crush on" feeling (obviously, the shy need not attempt that last one).

7) Just sit down and WRITE, PEOPLE, WRITE. Don't know what to write? IT DOESN'T BLEEPING MATTER. Automatic writing (a.k.a., what you do when you just shut off your brain and let your pen--or keyboard--go) may turn out to be garbage, but it also could turn out to be the best thing you've ever written--I just know that the script I'm writing now came from an idea that I wrote in the midst of a fierce automatic writing session. Are you a better talker than writer? Turn on your camera, sit down in front of it, and say whatever comes to mind. You'd be surprised what kind of weirdness (or wonderfulness) goes on in your own brain.

8) Snuggle. Yes, that's right. Snuggle. With a pillow, a person, a stuffed animal, a pet (if you have one) or even a blanket (hey, it's totally possible for 18-year-olds to have favorite blankets, right? RIGHT?)--doesn't matter. Just snuggle with something. If you fall asleep, that's even better--you'll just wake up earlier and have even MORE weekend to be bored with! ;)

9) Have a one-person (or two-person, or THREE-person) dance party in your dorm room. Turn off the lights, turn up the music, and LET GO, baby, LET FREAKING GO. This is the time to listen and dance to that awkward hipster music, fun oldies stuff, and lovely middle-school flashbacks that they never play at your school dances.

10) Tried-and-true: Watch your favorite movie. Oh, sorry, is that too boring for you? Become a film critic! Write up an honest critique of your favorite movie. Think of it from every angle. Sure, that guy is cute, but is he REALLY a good actor? Yes, that line may make you shoot soda out your nose every time, but how does the rest of the script stand up? Would the sets make Kubrick green with envy, or do they look like something left over from your high-school scene shop? Leave no stone unturned. Be as brutal or complimentary as you like--after all, if you don't want anyone but you to see this review, they won't.

BONUS RANDOMOSITY IDEAS:
Go for a long walk (but don't get lost)
Write a letter to your favorite dead person or unattainable celebrity crush
Go online shopping for stuff you love but couldn't afford in a million years (like window-shopping, only done through a computer screen)
Re-write your favorite song as a school-spirit anthem
Belt out your favorite songs into a hairbrush (yes, even if you can't sing)
Make a vlog
Make a BLOG (hint, hint)
See how far you can hop on one foot
Experiment with makeup, face paint, or hair products (just go easy on the glitter, unless you want your room to look like it was ransacked by Edward Cullen)
Practice saying the alphabet backwards
Do the weirdest dances you've ever seen (the chicken dance, the macarena, the cupid shuffle--whatever you want--remember, no one has to know but you)
Practice your accents: do your best Harry Potter, Scarlett O'Hara, or Sopranos imitation--and, for bonus points, next time your phone rings, answer it in that accent
Put a color streak in your hair
Attempt to juggle (with non-breakable objects, preferably)
Mercilessly mock Twilight
Make a Sherlock Holmes meme
Walk around talking like Mr. Spock
Write yourself a letter of encouragement, funny stuff, and good ideas. Leave it in a safe place. Take it out and read it whenever you need a boost or a boredom-buster! :)


STOLEN DIALOGUE

"Driving in the Dominican Republic, you just close your eyes, hit the gas and hope for the best."

Person 1: Can I sit with you?
Person two: Sure. Pop a squat.
Person three: Please don't in this classroom!

"If Capps ever met my dad, he'd have his own chapter in this book."

"He's got a postcard-sized picture of what's going on, and he's trying to paint it on the Sistine Chapel."

"I'm dedicated to finishing my major, but I'm not praying to the English Gods or anything..."

"She always said, 'Ready? Lay down!' All she'd have to do is say 'Lie down!' for a day, and she'd be using proper English!"

Person one: Michael Bay is producing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Apparently they're aliens--he says the turtles are aliens.
Person two: No they're not, they're mutants, just listen to the damn name!
Person one: Yeah...I know, but according to Michael Bay...
Person two: There'll be a lot of exploding turtles in that movie.
Person one: Well, it's produced by Michael Bay, directed by Jonathan Leeman.
Person two: Yes...exploding turtles...there will be lots of shell fragments everywhere.

"I found myself asking myself, 'What the hell is he talking about?'"

To Blazes with the Code!

Interlochen February has sadly come to a bit of a halt, thanks to theater and video-a-day...but I had to post something because 1) I feel guilty for having to stop the Interlochen posts early, and 2) this was too much fun NOT to post.

You know you're watching a film made during the Hollywood Production Code era when...

...You hear "Gee!" in place of every interjection known to humankind.

...You can time the kisses: Every single one lasts less than three seconds.

...Any time a woman is shown with her boyfriend, the big question is whether or not she'll marry him.

...The most extreme expletive used is "darn."

...The aliens look suspiciously like humans.

...The most exciting special effect seen is a glowing spaceship.

...It's either in black and white or Technicolor.

...The ending is ALWAYS happy.

...The villain ALWAYS loses.

...There is no such thing as an anti-hero.

...You find yourself counting how many times you hear a seven-year-old kid say, "Gosh, Mr. [insert-last-name-here], what's that?"

..."Holy Christmas!" is allowed, but "God Almighty!" is not.

...If the lead actor isn't Cary Grant, he at least bears a striking resemblance.

...Seeing the men in anything other than suits or work uniforms is a shock. (Apparently, they didn't have t-shirts back in 1955.)

...If a woman is wearing pants, it's a major plot point.

...Double beds simply do not exist, even if the married couple has children. Pregnancy? What's that?

..."I've never been on a honeymoon before" is an acceptable euphemism for "I am a virgin."

...The government is always on the right side.

...The most upsetting thing that happens usually involves a kid not getting what he/she wants, or a woman finding out that the man she likes (translation: sees two or three times a week when she goes to the drugstore) is about to marry someone else.

...You know from the beginning that the conflict will be resolved in a pain-free way.

...The words "Directed by Alfred Hitchcock" are a Godsend. Why? Because he was the only person who knew how to effectively say "Screw you" to the Production Code.


If He's A Rockstar were made during the Production Code era...

...Emerson and Skye would not be alone in a hotel room together...especially not one with a double bed.

..."We'll stop fucking with you" would become "We'll stop messing with you."

..."Shit" becomes "Oh no!" (Or, worse, "Oh dear!"...a.k.a. the dumbest expression in the English language.)

...The kiss would have to be cut down to three seconds.

...Instead of Skye rambling about how he doesn't "hook up" and admitting to Emerson that the whole thing was a bet, the key point there would have to be, "We have to wait until we're married."

...Going off the last point, instead of giving Emerson his number after sleeping in the same room as her, Skye would get Emerson her own hotel room (like a gentleman--how sweet!) and then ask her to marry him the next morning.

...Something "bad" would have to happen to the evil, evil band members who go off and have "impure love" with the groupies.

...The "breast graze" would NOT be allowed.

...Emerson's costume would be seriously revised--she couldn't wear that tiny little tank top, especially not while she was alone with a man.

...All of Jack's "Oh my Gods" would have to be replaced with "Gosh!" or "Wow!" or, my personal favorite, "Gee!"

...The allusions to William being high, as well as the boys' casual drinking, would be heavily frowned-upon, if not cut out completely.

Okay, where am I going with all of this? My point: Yes, the MPAA is ridiculous. (Yes, I just said that.) But hey, guys? This production code of which I speak...yeah, it was a LOT worse.

Think about it.


STOLEN DIALOGUE

(Just a warning: Most of this was taken from my Gender & Religion class...and we are not exactly PC in there...so if you are sensitive to curse/anatomy slang, you may not want to read this...)

"Did you lose the monk?"

(teacher leading a class)
"Is anyone going to talk about the missionary position?"

"Oh my God, whose vagina did he come out of?"

"My name is Emily. I prefer not to be called Vagina-Bearer!"

"So, the four Noble Truths...well, there are four of them, and they're noble..."

"So he's going, 'Oh motherfuck and shit, blah blah blah,' and this guy's like, 'You're a religious studies teacher, why do you talk like that?' and the teacher goes, 'I talk that way because I teach religious studies!'"

"No one is born with a set of full male genitals and full female genitals, it just doesn't happen. That would bring a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Go screw yourself.'"

"People will grab a bit of scripture and run with it like a football."

"We've got four minutes to cover the most important part of Buddhism...oh well, whatever."

"Whenever someone uses 'pussy' as an insult it's like, my pussy can push a person out of it. What has your dick done today?"

Male: If a guy has sex with a lot of women it's okay, but if a girl sleeps with more than one guy she's called a slut.
Female: One of my friends just had sex with her boyfriend and now she's being called a slut.
Male: Well, that's weird...

"Every Halloween, in protest, I wear a girl's costume, and I'm hairy in all the wrong places, so it's not a pretty picture, but I do it!"

"Newt Gingrich creeps the hell out of me, I gotta be honest...I feel like he should be in a hollow tree making cookies or something."

Interlochen February, Day 19: You Gotta Fight For Your Right to FOOOONDUUUUEEEE

DAY 19
February 20
Prompt: "Your favorite Interlochen party."

Ooh, there were quite a few good ones...but I think my all-time favorite would have to be Lucie's eighteenth birthday party. This just proved to me that creative writing majors really know how to throw a party: it involved fondue, anatomically incorrect blow-up dolls, sparkling juice, an illegal boy in our room (he actually was a student; we just weren't supposed to have guys in the McWhorter rooms), and a hell of a lot of toasting, cheering, and laughing.

Here's what really makes a good party--or anything--at Interlochen: the people. Here was the majority's idea of a party: a dance in Fine Arts or some secret meeting in someone's room after hours. Now, those are all well and good, but that's sooo been done before. When you take ten or twelve people--especially people like Lucie, Ariel, Mishka, and Ahmed--and throw them in a room with an inflatable doll dressed in clothing stolen from the Share Box, well, how can you NOT have a good time? Take the school's classiest people, throw in chocolate and inappropriate lollipops, and you've got a recipe for success.

Sorry for tonight's ridiculously short post...I really don't have time for anything else though :(

Interlochen February, Day 18: A Brief Pause in the Celebrations...

DAY 18
February 19
Prompt: "It's OVER, you are NOT at Interlochen anymore!"

At this point in the blog series I'd like to take a moment to address something that I've been hearing a lot from certain non-Interlochen friends recently, and it's really been getting on my nerves. Three "somethings," actually.

SOMETHING #1: I KNOW I AM NOT AT INTERLOCHEN ANYMORE. Let's just get that cleared up right now. I'm not still "lost in high school," and while there are certainly things I regret and things I wish I could change, and things I wish I could have back, I don't want to "go backwards." I'm happy being at college, I love McDaniel despite all its flaws, just like I loved Interlochen despite all its flaws, and I love the friends I've made here. So, one more time, just so we're all clear: I know I am no longer in high school, and I am perfectly content where I am and have no desire to go back to high school.

SOMETHING #2: The whole point of Interlochen February is to celebrate my high school and the memories that I and a lot of others have of that high school. It is not me saying "Oh God I hate my college and want to go back to high school." This is my way of thanking my school and remembering my school. Also, I do still have friends at that school who have not yet graduated--this is my little shout-out to them as well, and my way of encouraging them to live for the good moments and live through the bad ones. It's my way of saying, "Guess what, guys? It doesn't last forever, so make it last--but know that even when you leave, Interlochen will stay with you...you don't have to stop loving Interlochen when you go to college."

SOMETHING #3: This is MY BLOG, guys...I'm sorry to get all MINEMINEMINE on you, but seriously...if you don't like what you're reading, no one is forcing you. No one is saying, "You MUST read Alien Water Torture or you will FAIL AT LIFE!" I know that not everyone who reads this blog went to Interlochen, and if you're bored reading about a school you didn't attend, then you don't have to read any more of my Interlochen February posts; you can come back in March when I'm done. I'm not trying to offend people, I'm not trying to be elitist about my high school, I'm not trying to "rub it in" if you didn't love your high school experience (and, as anyone who has read more than one or two posts of this blog will know, I didn't love everything about my HS experience and I don't know anyone who did). And I'm sorry if you're bored, or offended, or whatever reading about Interlochen, but no one is forcing you. So please, if you're one of the people who has been hounding me or saying "Write about something else!" (you know who you are), STOP. This is the last time I'm going to be nice about it.

(Also, I find it highly interesting that out of all the controversial topics I've written about, this is what people choose to confront me over. I'm just throwing that out there...)

The thing is, guys, Interlochen is the kind of place that sticks with you. So you can say, "Well, you're in college now, so forget about Interlochen," but you know what? It doesn't work like that. I know that going to college means leaving high school behind, but that doesn't mean I can't remember my high school, or enjoy the memories of my high school. As I said, I know that not everyone loves their high school experience, and there were definitely things that I hated at Interlochen...but if I had to go back and choose again, I would still choose to go there. Interlochen changed me, it helped me grow, it made me into who I am today. And that's something that I will never forget, even when I've left college and gone to the so-called "real world."

Interlochen February, Day 17: Just Keep Drilling 'Til You Hit Rock

DAY 17
February 18
Prompt: "The incredible pain in the ass that was the fire drills."

Submitted for your consideration:

FIRE DRILL SCENARIO #1: February/January-ish. (Can't remember, just know there was snow in the ground.) Junior year. Fire alarm goes off after I'm already in bed. I am wearing this tiny blue peasant-dress-style nightgown that comes barely to my knees, with open, loose sleeves and a very low-cut top, and only have time to shove my feet into crocs and wrap a throw around myself before I have to run out into the knee-deep snow. I almost freeze to death, whilst giving the guys on the first floor a good peep show.

FIRE DRILL SCENARIO #2: Early May, also junior year. Once again, the fire alarm goes off after I have changed into my pajamas. I am wearing fleece short-shorts and an Interlochen sweatshirt. Once again, I barely have time to get shoes and wind up wearing flip-flops. (I should explain that our dorm rooms were HOT, to the point where even in February we'd keep the windows open at night, hence my sleepwear, or lack thereof.) My friend notices me shivering and hands me a strip of paper napkin to "keep me warm"--this actually worked, because I was laughing too hard to feel cold.

FIRE DRILL SCENARIO #3: End of junior year, DeRoy cook-out. The outdoor grill stops working, so we go inside to finish cooking the food. Guess what happens? If you'd guess the fire alarm went off, you'd be right. To my knowledge, there was no fire, just a bit of smoke. But since it wasn't an official fire drill, the fire department actually showed up. We were the talk of the campus the next day--"What idiot over at DeRoy set the damn fire alarm off?" We're not supposed to tell what happened. We do anyway.

FIRE DRILL SCENARIO #4: Senior year, we're all supposed to line up in order of name, AND we are supposed to do this SILENTLY. However, we are unable to do this silently, because there was ALWAYS someone missing and so their roommates and friends are frantically whispering, "Where's Liz? Where's Gabby? WHERE THE HELL IS CARINA?" because if ANYONE was missing who wasn't already known to be off-campus, we weren't allowed to go back inside, so we'd all stand there shivering, feeling resentful of whoever was late or missing, until they showed up and we were allowed back inside.

Interlochen February, Day 16: Clean My Room? What? You're Kidding!

DAY 16
February 17
Prompt: "BLOODY ROOM INSPECTIONS."

Oh, Lord...you know what, I think I'll just provide you with a comprehensive list of things that were said about my dorm room:

"I think she might have a hygiene problem."

"I'll help you clean...where's the rubber gloves?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Where's your laundry bag?"

"This is YOUR room? BUT IT'S ACTUALLY CLEAN!"

"Well...I've seen worse."

"I've smelled worse."

"What is that peanut butter jar doing there?"

"What's that smell?"

"Why is your bed not made?"

"What's that under your desk?"

"What's in your fridge?"

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

"When's the last time you cleaned?"

"Just don't leave anything in there that smells like ass."

"What IS that?!"

"Exam week is NOT a good excuse!"

And finally, my all-time favorite:

"Your room smells like a bucket of fuck that was stepped in and kicked over."

Interlochen February, Day 15: Peace? What's that?

DAY 15
February 16
Prompt: "Your most peaceful moment."

Hmm...this is a tough one. There was very little peace at this school, I can assure you of that. I think the moments when I probably enjoyed myself the most were, ironically enough, the moments that I was alone (ironic because I spent a good amount of time complaining about how "unwanted" I was, being the little angstmonger that I was)--time spent wandering around with my camera, reading at Braeside, painting by the waterfront on a sunny day, curled up reading The Three Musketeers in the Writing House on a snowy night...

But that's not to say that I never had peaceful moments with anyone else. I think breakfasts with Isaac might have to take the top spot in this category...though walking in the snow with Thomas was definitely a close second, and of course watching Mary-Carole play video games was always fun (at least, when I wasn't trying to force myself to do homework at the same time), and I don't think I've ever had a better time at a dance than when I went with Krista and Rachel.

Peace is such a relative term at Interlochen. You're never really settled; everything is always going on all at once and you can either deal with it and keep up, or you get your ass kicked. Finding moments to yourself is always a blessing...but when it comes down to it, nothing beats having your friends there. Even if you don't talk. Even if you're just sitting there reading together, you're still bonding...and trust me, that's something you never, ever want to take for granted.

Interlochen February, Day 14: Talk the Talk

DAY 14
February 15
Prompt: "The Language of Interlochen."

With nothing to do but a so-easy-I-could-handle-it-in-my-sleep Psychology assignment, and enough anxious energy in me to burn through the computer screen (*pleaseacceptmyfilmNashville, pleasepleaseplease*), I have to pass the time SOMEHOW. So, I think tonight, instead of taking the prompt literally, I'll supply you with a bit of Dead Poet lingo, so you can actually understand what the hell I'm talking about, should you ever meet me face-to-face (that is, if you haven't already). Check it out:

Anemic Gecko - an idiot, a tool, someone who cannot be taken seriously, or someone who is not worth your time.
Ass Hat - see above.
Bearspam - the practice of using the emoticons on Skype to send dozens, even hundreds of animated, hugging bears. Can be used as both a display of affection and as a device of complete and total irritation.
Because Edward loves Bella and vampires have two extra chromosomes - perfectly acceptable answer to any unanswerable question.
Beatnik - a true hipster: a real nonconformist, not a soulless anti-consumer who gives real hipsters a bad name. Someone who knows what they love and who knows who they are and who does not base their likes and dislikes on what others like or dislike.
But I'm from Michigan! - what one says after screwing up.
But I want to adopt it! - this will be easy!
Death Trap - dangerous means of transportation, most commonly referring to a scooter or motorcycle.
Direct me to the ass which needs kicking - this one is self-explanatory, I think...
Douche/Douchey - mainly used to indicate pretension. Can also mean showy, edgy, old-fashioned, or exclusive.
Douche Cave - a hangout place (ex.: inviting someone to the Writing House - "We're in the Douche Cave, come hang out with us!") or a state of mind (ex.: "I was in such a weird mood last night...I was really lost in the Douche Cave.")
Douche Up - get ready; dress up as pretentiously as possible.
Greyhouse moment - a silly or ineffectual action.
Jack Kerouac would do it! - can be used as an excuse to rebel or to convince someone else to rebel.
Macaroni stop - all-purpose frustrated interjection. Generally used in the face of a roadblock, or just a major pain in the ass.
Manure hits the air circulator - a phrase stolen from an Artemis Fowl novel. A more interesting way of saying, "When something goes really, really wrong."
Sarcasm Hand - a reference to Dan Bergstein's Blogging Twilight, this one is obvious: raising one's hand during a moment of sarcasm.
So Much Class/SMC - used to indicate approval.
Tyler Durden look - danger face; an expression that says "We are going to do some damage here tonight!"
What even is that thing? - What the hell just happened? or, What the hell is going on?


And of course, I have to follow that up with some...

STOLEN DIALOGUE

"If I were a prison warden, I'd want my prisoners sitting around doing Buddhist meditation, too."

"He told me he was in prison for 25 years, and I'm thinking...shit!"

Person one: Are you talking about an episode of Charmed?
Person two (shifty eyes): ...Maybe.

"'This piece of work' is just an awkward expression."

Person one: They obviously think that all women are hooker-pants.
Person two: I've never heard that expression before, but okay...

Person one: I like that shirt on you, but I would prefer if you wore suspenders all the time.
Person two: For a minute, I thought that sentence was going somewhere a lot worse than it did.

Person one: I heard you ate dirt?
Person two: That could've been ANY 16-year-old physicist at McDaniel!

Person one (reading): "There is a lot of vagina on your shirt."
Person two: There's a lot of vagina in these quotes!

"Apparently, bestiality is more common than human sex in some parts of the world - what the fuck? Pardon my language, but that's just really weird..."

"I've never thought of a feminist as being tough, dry, overcooked, and hard to cut."

Student: That true/false question was tricky.
Teacher (Prof. Richard): Yes, that's Richard being an asshole, right there.

"The War of the Worlds...well, the clearest answer I got there was that humanity doesn't have a hell of a lot of control over anything."

"When you've got 200 cars to move, after awhile you probably just go 'What the hell?'"

"In The Thing From Another World, you've got this power-mongering, crazy fucker who doesn't care if all his friends die...so that's an example of an irrational scientist there..."

"It's sort of thinly-veiled political posturing...done by an alien."

Interlochen February, Day 13: Blame It On the Valentines

DAY 13
February 14
Prompt: "Shimmying Szemetylo on Valentine's Day."

So in honor of Valentine's Day, I thought I would detail one of the greatest traditions of Interlochen: The Singing Valentines.

And, of course, Shimmying Szemetylo.

See, it all started, as far as I know, with Gyrating Johnny. The concept was simple: either you could buy your loved one a boring carnation, or you could surprise them with a singing Valentine...or, if even THAT wasn't enough for you, you could surprise them with a Gyrating Johnny, a.k.a. a dance major who went around with a boom box and basically danced in people's faces. But then Johnny graduated...oh no! What to do?

Easy: Get a theatre major, of course. Oh, and an MPA. They go hand in hand, you know.

And that led to this...

and this...

 and this...

 and this...

 and THIS:

Interlochen...whaddyagonnado, amirite? ;)

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Interlochen February, Day 12: Yes, I Made Another Clockwork Orange Reference

DAY 12
February 13
Prompt: "Reciting Random Poetry Day."

Oh, the Poetry Stunt. It wasn't even my idea, it was Mishka's, but she didn't feel like doing it, so I decided to see if I could get people to do it with me. I don't remember who else agreed to it--I don't think it was very many of our circle of friends--but I remember that Isaac agreed to it. We even talked about it beforehand and decided on different approaches: he would stand in the middle of a crowded area and recite it to whoever happened to be standing there, while I would simply walk up to people, friends and strangers alike, and say it to them as intensely as possible--and then walk away.

I love doing this kind of thing, because it accomplishes two things: 1) It forces you to get over any insecurity you might have--if you can walk up to a random stranger and recite "Patterns," you know you've got serious guts. 2) It guarantees people will remember you. If someone gets up in your face, recites a poem or quote, and walks away, you're not going to forget that person anytime soon.

So, there's not much to tell. I walked around reciting (not singing, RECITING) random bits of RJA lyrics, the more intense the better. I got to push Harry against a wall, which was quite interesting, seeing as he seemed completely unaffected by it (most people I know would have at least shoved me away). There were a couple of people who looked like they were seriously considering calling Health Services, or maybe Campus Safety, on me. The common reaction was something along the lines of "What the hell just happened?"

But that was kind of the point, I suppose.

No, you know what? When I look back on it, the Dead Poets really was not about spreading chaos. We weren't Alex and his violent Droogs; we were just a merry band of so-called miscreants who had absolutely no rules and no inhibition. If we wanted to sit under the table, we would. If we wanted to wear sunglasses to community meetings, we would. If we wanted to play Hide-and-Seek or Loup-Garou in the Writing House, we would. There was no reason, no method to our alleged madness. And it wasn't really madness, anyway--it was about us. What we wanted to do, regardless of whether it was "normal" or not.

The Dead Poets of Interlochen were not about rebellion.

We were about honesty--staying true to ourselves.

Oops...

Right, I missed yesterday. Sorry about that. There were extenuating circumstances (i.e., it was decided that not walking across a cold campus at midnight was more beneficial to my health and safety than doing so just so I could write a blog post), but don't worry, there WILL be a post today. I might post two, to make up for yesterday's fail. Just hold on for a couple more hours while I go and take a Film Analysis test, and then Interlochen February will resume with a vengance! ;)

Interlochen February, Day 10: Rules Are Sooooo Mainstream

DAY 10
February 11
Prompt: "The biggest rule you broke."

I don't think I actually broke that many "big" rules. I know plenty of people who broke the Big Three (alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes), but that wasn't really my thing. (To anyone who has read my posts on Red Ribbon Week: Insert huge "Duh" here.) I preferred subtler methods of rebellion.

But when I did break rules, I did so with a certain amount of relish. I hung out on the roof of the dance building, both with friends and alone. I snuck out during thunderstorms and tornado warnings, once for a very stupid reason.  I got past the Internet blockers with the help of a very computer-savvy friend. I spent a bit of time in my guy friends' rooms after lights-out (let me assure you that they were FRIENDS, and nothing more; there was no illicit reason for my visits, unless you count playing Monopoly). I hung out in the laundry room after lights-out quite a few times. I would sneak into the summer buildings, Braeside being my preference, but willing to accept Kresge or the Bowl in a pinch. I'd go over to the boys' side of the summer camp without signing out, but that was mostly due to forgetting than a desire to beat the system.

To be honest, I never really broke any "exciting" rules. I preferred hearing others' thrilling expulsion/suspension/dorming stories to creating my own. Most of the mischief my friends and I got into wasn't technically against the rules; it just confused and sometimes annoyed people...but I'll save those stories for a later post, shall I? ;)

Interlochen February, Day 9: Excuse Me While I Have A "Moment"...

DAY 9
February 10
Prompt: "Never Forget."

(Translation: Beatnik Belle is too tired to write a proper post today.)

But really. At Interlochen, it's not about the big things (as in, holidays, graduation, MORP, etc.) It's the little things that make Interlochen Interlochen. Proof:

During a Physics class, Mr. Nadji announces that we are allowed to see our grades. I eagerly go to look at mine, and discover that it has dropped from a B- to a C+. I freak out--naturally--and quote Heathers, making a statement that I am sure Mr. Nadji has ever heard before (and I'm probably lucky he didn't hear this time): "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw!" Morgan hears this and bursts out laughing. Can you guess what our acronym of choice is for the rest of the year? If you guessed FMGWAC, you'd be right!


Singing "Baby" dressed like Justin Bieber at the VAMPA Coffeehouse with my roommate (who was dressed as Ludacris), in front of a good-sized crowd = terrifying. But the response from that decent-sized crowd = freaking exhilarating. Even better? Hearing Isaac assure me after the performance that we were unforgettable.


Ben Busch, the epic photographer/actor/director/former Marine, visits Interlochen for a second time just to talk to my War Writing class. He delights us with his amusing anecdotes and gives us amazing advice, then watches me rush off to Physics. After my class I come to the writing house and find that he is still there. I go up to him and tell him how much his words of inspiration--"You are not wrong"--helped me through the previous year. To my utter shock, he actually remembers me, and sends me off with an encouraging smile and a pat on the arm. I am in the seventh heaven for the rest of the day.

On the weekends, at brunch, it was just INSANE at Stone. But on weekday mornings, everyone who had first hour off was usually asleep, so it would just be me and Isaac...and a handful of theatre majors off in the corner on occasion...so we'd end up having the weirdest conversations known to mankind, because nine times out of ten I was either half-asleep and barely cognizant or freaking out about something (usually ballet or physics), and that made for some good times. Bad food, yes, but usually good times.

Remember what I said about rain in that post about tornado warnings? There really is nothing like watching the rain hit the water, and seeing the tiny little waves lapping at the sand, and rolling around in the bright-green grass and getting absolutely soaked, and hearing the sound of the rain...I would literally do this for hours. I would take my coat off and just let myself get soaked. I would walk in the rain, dance in the rain, scooter in the rain...that last one probably was not the wisest thing to do, but damn, it was fun.

During MORP, Morgan sits on my lap at the bowling/pool/pizza afterparty. "Love Story" by Taylor Swift begins to play on the radio, and during the bridge, I "propose" to her by singing along. Laughing, she accepts, and we immediately proceed to take a round of pictures while Isaac gets a strike, making the rest of us look worse at bowling than we actually are.


At my first-ever MPA screening, my one-minute short, What Teachers Don't See, is playing on the big screen. As my film begins, I see my film teacher look around the room to make sure I'm there. He sees me, looks at the film, and sees Harry playing him in the movie--and doing a bloody good job of it, I might add. Everyone laughs hysterically at my movie, which involves a group of students literally having a party every time the teacher turns around to write on the board. I have never been so proud of myself in my life.

Interlochen February, Day 8: Let's Put On A Show

DAY 8
February 9
Prompt: "Singing and dancing in the Bowl."

I have practically no time for a post today, I have a killer Buddhism test tomorrow and, Hermione Granger-like as it sounds, I can't afford to NOT spend my last night before the test reviewing...but there is a story that I desperately want to tell tonight, because it was one of the most amazing nights of my Interlochen experience.

I know this was my junior year...but I don't remember what day or even what month, exactly. I just remember it was very cold, but not snowing, which would mean it was either spring or fall (my money's on spring, but I can't remember--Mishka, help me out here!). Anyway, we'd just come from the Melody Freeze, if I remember correctly, and we were bored, and a little bit senioritis/junioritis-ish at the time. And this was one of those things that just happened; we didn't think, didn't plan. No one SAID "Hey, guys, let's go play around in the Bowl," we just DID it.

The Bowl, for anyone who does not know, is one of our amphitheaters. It's the smaller of the two, where Les Preludes is held at the end of every camp season, where we take our giant school photo every year, and where each end-of-year dance is held in the spring. And of course, there are plenty of inappropriate jokes floating around about The Bowl (I once found "Welcome to the Interlochen Bowl...please remain seated for the entire performance" written on a bathroom stall...that was my personal favorite), which is just one of the many ways in which we express our love for it.

So, anyway, we were wandering around, and we came across the Bowl. I don't remember how or why, I just remember that we randomly ran down the aisles and onto the stage, and began to sing and dance around like total goofballs. We didn't care what we were singing, or if we were off-key. We weren't performing for anyone. We were just doing it for ourselves. And it was freezing cold, and we were all over that stage, singing and reciting poems and dancing and yelling and playing like little kids...

...and then wouldn't you know it, that's when Campus Security comes and tells us we're not allowed to be in The Bowl! And he meant business, too. Shining that stupid flashlight in our faces and speaking to us quite condescendingly. I didn't like that one bit.

But with some innocent faces and sweet words we got ourselves out of trouble and went on our merry way. The party in the Bowl was over...but the Dead Poets of Interlochen were just beginning to rise out of the woodwork.


STOLEN DIALOGUE

"You could say that one of two ways. It could either be 'Are you making friends at McDaniel,' or, 'I thought we could fuck.'"

"It's different with Mr. Long Eyelashes over there..."

"Do men wear angora?"

"It's not like when the plane lands, they open all the doors and windows and air that sucker out."

Person one: In the film, I definitely got the sense that Lois was more masculine than Kenny.
Person two: It's that sweater.

"Football players shouldn't date Brazilians."

"ESTP...the 'doers'...oh yeah, that's definitely him."

Person one: You like to screw anything that moves, and some things that don't.
Person two: Show the paraplegics some love. Hug them.

Person one: You see, Sam, Avery lives in the Land of Haves and Have-Nots...and she is one of the Have-Nots.
Person two: Have-not what...testicles?

Interlochen February, Day 7: Don't Be A Halloweenie

DAY 7
February 8
Prompt: "Halloween 2009 and 2010."

In honor of the fact that this is AWT's 100th post, I'm doing a double-prompt today: Halloween 2009, my junior year, and Halloween 2010, my senior year. Two awesome nights...but two very different nights.

2009:
I went as the Joker and hung out with the Scooby-Doo gang (a.k.a. a group of very, VERY cool theater majors, two of whom I didn't even know by name until that night). Many, many pictures were taken. Energy drinks were consumed...not by me though; I hate energy drinks, I don't know why. Maybe the smell. Anyway...

So first, I went to an open room with Zac, Andrew, Shelby, Lindsay, and Yaron to get ready. This involved them getting into their Scooby gang costumes, while I put on my Joker makeup. I remember a lot of jostling and mirror-hogging in the bathroom that night. I think the boys might've tried to help me with the Joker scars...I don't remember.

But I do remember running into so many awesome, awesome people on the way...you see, we'd all been quarantined since the beginning of October, due to some illness scares in Traverse City, so that kind of forced people to get creative. I ran into a Snuggie, a nun, G-Sus (G-sustained...he was a composition major...it's a long story), Adam & Eve, a bride, Marla Singer, a few Greek and Roman goddesses, a gladiator, some vampires, a pirate chick, a few cats, a cross-dresser (several cross-dressers, actually), a geisha, a starving artist, some dolls, a panda, and a dude in a bathrobe. And that was just while we were trick-or-treating!

Once we'd sufficiently frozen ourselves to the bones (it was COLD--remember, this is Northern Michigan at night in October), we went back to the girls' room to warm up before the Halloween dance. (This was where the consumption of energy drinks took place.) Then it was off to Fine Arts, the go-to building for dances. This was before it was renovated, back in the lovely days of the sketchy loft and icky floors and not much room and tiny, tiny, TINY bathrooms. So imagine that, okay? And then picture about 200 kids crammed inside. Hormonal, sugar-high kids, to be precise, half of them more than halfway out of there costumes. Can you imagine how ridiculously hot it was in there?

So, I'm having a good time with my friends, dancing away, being amused by Erica (dressed as, and I quote, "a Catholic girl from Manchester who just lost her Bible"), and then something truly awesome happened.

Two gay boys (remember, people, this is Interlochen) climb into the loft, one of them a theater major dressed in a Little Black Dress and heels, the other a dance major wearing a skirt made out of Bosco Stick wrappers stapled to a pair of spandex shorts. They proceed to put on a little mini-show for us, dancing like goofballs and trying to stir up the crowd. They get told to back off after an entirely too short time (curse you, Interlochen chaperones!) but if you ask me what I remember most about Halloween 2009, that is DEFINITELY it.


2010:
Halloweekend starts the night before Halloween: Saturday, October 30, 2010. (Remember, non-Inty graduates, our school weeks used to run Tuesday-Saturday.) I was shaking partly from fear, partly from cold--it was less than tropical in the warehouse-like building I was currently inside of, and I was wearing a little red dress and sheer red scarf, playing the part of a vampire victim in a haunted house.

Yes, you read that right. I, the Queen of Being Scared Shitless, was willingly participating in a haunted house.

What possessed me to do this? I have no idea. I just know that I heard myself volunteer at that meeting with the Student Activities group, not wanting to be left out of the fun, and the next thing I knew, I was "chained" to an old-fashioned dining room chair, sitting in a freezing-cold warehouse at 8:00 PM on a cold October night, with eerie music playing and screams all around me. I was as terrified as I would be if I had to actually walk through the haunted house (my one consolation now was that I couldn't really see what was going on around me; I was separated from the other "acts" by a big black curtain). My "vampire" was really a close friend, Bonnie, who kept me warm between scares by hugging me (always my preferred method). I was a nervous wreck and kept asking why in the HELL I'd agreed to this until the Haunted Trail event actually began, and we got our first group of already-freaked-out people, ready and waiting to be scared...

I screamed.

I mean I SCREAMED. I was already wired, and the cold did not help, and I was as scared as the people walking through the trail, and when I heard footsteps, I let loose. Bonnie popped out from behind what I think was just this big, black crate, and came over to "suck my blood" before creeping on the kids (who, by that point, were also freaking out).

And then it was over, and our first group was gone. And you know what? I wasn't scared anymore. That was fun. It was like acting again...and my God, I didn't realize how much I missed acting. I wasn't me, the scaredy-cat, anymore. I was a vampire victim. I was the scarer, instead of the scare-ee.

I felt like a bamf.

Aside from the freezing cold, the Haunted Trail was a success. But it was just the beginning. Halloweekend continued on Sunday...kicked off by a lovely sleet storm...and, of course, during this storm, I was wearing a poodle skirt and saddle shoes, because we'd all agreed to wear our costumes during the day as well as for trick-or-treating. (Interlochen kids, for those of you who don't know, trick-or-treat at faculty housing every year.)

I didn't watch the horror movie that they showed in DeRoy that day. I just hung out in the library with lovely-as-ever Mishka (a.k.a. Mrs. Lovett) and Gustavo (a.k.a. Freddy Krueger). Oh, and I helped Ellie (who ended up going as Sweeney Todd) with her costume. That was fun. Oh, and I kept getting the crap scared out of me by Gustavo and his LOVELY Freddy mask...that was fun... *raises sarcasm hand*

I remember very little about the actual trick-or-treating. I remember that I stuck close to Thomas the whole time, because I was afraid of getting left behind. I remember Ms. Tye, my screenwriting teacher, dressed up as a zombie (which was AWESOME). I remember that it was cold--like, really cold--but this didn't phase Mishka at all; she went around the whole night in that sleeveless dress like a pro, while the rest of us shivered. I also remember that Gustavo spent more time trying to torment Mishka and the other girls than he did with his Hindu-God-consistently-mistaken-for-Smurf-or-Blue-Man-Group boyfriend (his costume was literally blue body pain...it was awesome), which I didn't mind one bit, because it left me someone to cling to and cuddle with. (Oh, the fun of having gay best friends.)

As for the dance...well, it sucked. I'll just be blunt: it sucked. I don't even remember who the DJ was. I remember that at one point the music cut out and a bunch of lights came on from nowhere...that was just weird...but what happened concerning NaNoWriMo was so much more important that I pretty much just forgot about the damn dance.

Ah, NaNoWriMo. Interlochen Gold. If you were part of the Dead Poet group, and you DIDN'T participate in NaNo, what was wrong with you?! If you did, you subjected yourself to a month of sleeplessness, energy drinks, sugar highs, coffee, dropping grades, diminishing sanity, and writer lectures (Emily and Mishka usually gave the best ones, just for the record.) Everyone really was crazy for NaNoWriMo; you might as well jump on the bandwagon. No use arguing; save your energy for writing.

So that year on Halloween, I became initiated into my first-ever NaNo celebration. We planned out a trip for the next day, so we could stock up on sugar and caffeine for the upcoming insanity. Then we planned to start writing at midnight and keep writing as long as we could, and then meet at noon the next day to show each other what we'd written.

And the resulting trip, the next day, was even better...but that's another story for another blog post. ;)

Interlochen February, Day 6: It's A...Twister?

DAY 6
February 7
Prompt: "Tornado Warnings...WHAT THE HELL."

There is something about the atmosphere of Interlochen that turns the most rational person into a model of irrationality. Most of the traditions are weird; most of the policies are even weirder. And you know what? You get used to them over time. You think you won't, but you do. I know at first it really freaked me out that we were allowed to change out of uniform after classes (for the record, we weren't allowed to do that at the camp). However, there is one policy, regarding weather, that to this day completely blows my mind.

The Tornado Warning Policy.

Here is Interlochen's view of things: If there's four feet of snow on the ground, with eight-to-ten-foot snowbanks on either side and snow coming down like a beaded curtain from the sky so you could get lost half a block from your dorm, and a solid sheet of ice covering the entire road so that you can't wear anything other than mountain-climbing boots for fear of ice-skating your way to class...well, what the hell, just send the kids to class anyway. I find it highly ironic that on the Campus That Was Eaten By Snow, there is no such thing as a snow day. I guess their policy on that is, "Well, they have to get used to snow soon enough anyway; might as well make them get educated while they freeze their asses off."

But so help me, if there is a single drop of rain, they go on the alert. I've gotten e-mails from Campus Safety declaring a "thunderstorm warning" after five minutes of drizzle. I'm not even exaggerating. To their credit, Interlochen does wait until things are fairly severe before they issue a tornado warning. But for the most part, what they cite as a tornado warning usually turns out to be a ten-minute thunderstorm, which feels extremely anticlimactic...especially after you've been ordered to the basement for a storm that wouldn't even knock over a plastic flamingo, let alone turn into a tornado.

You think I'm exaggerating now, don't you? I'm not. I'm not even remotely kidding.

Let me remind you all--I am from Michigan. We are not exactly the Tornado Capital of the World, but we get our fair share of violent weather. In the summertime, we get plenty of thunderstorms. And I have seen a pre-tornado thunderstorm. The sky is freaking green. The clouds move in certain patterns. The rain comes down like thousands of tiny, wet daggers. It's not your normal thunderstorm. And I know--because the first time I was aware of one of these, I completely flipped out. I'll never forget that. So, trust me, I know what a true tornado warning should look like.

And also let me point out that I KNOW thunderstorms are dangerous. Trees get knocked over. Things get hit by lightening. Power goes out. I know all of this. I repeat: Michigan. It's not that unusual. It's been November and we've had power-cutting thunderstorms.

But really, Interlochen loved to flip out over thunderstorms. This just happened. I'm still not sure why. Here's what I do know: I do not like to be inside on a rainy day. Running around in the rain is one of my favorite pastimes. If there's a chance for me to go out and dance in the rain, and get completely, thoroughly soaked, and just generally act like a fool, I will take it. I love rain even more than I love snow. If you offer me a choice between rain and sunshine, nine times out of ten I will take rain. It's part of my genetic coding, I guess. (Don't ask me why.)

So, of course, Interlochen has to cancel classes, herd us into the basement, and make a hugestinkingdeal out of every major or minor thunderstorm to hit our campus.

I've heard stories of people doing insane things during thunderstorm warnings or tornado warnings, my personal favorite being the anecdote about having a picnic on the roof of the dance building during a tornado watch. (Wish I'd been there for that one...) But what I really remember about the tornado watches/warnings and thunderstorm watches/warnings of my senior year are how freaking inconvenient they were...how they literally always happened at times when I desperately wanted to be out of my dorm or at someone else's dorm.

I mean, really.

It was like the thunderstorms wanted to tick me off.

This especially ticked me off at the end of the year, when I had literally a month to spend with someone I really cared about and knew I would most likely not see after the school year ended, and guess what? Those damn thunderstorms kept sneaking up on me and separating us. I remember one night I ended up in hysterical tears over this. I remember being so mad at the weather, and so mad at the administration, because I just wanted to spend as much time with this person as I could and the stupid rain wasn't letting me. I literally sat curled up on my floor crying, with "Goodbye Love" blaring in the background because that was my cry-song at the time.

That was a low point for me.

I won't lie--there were times when Interlochen's rules really frustrated me. But you know what? It really is a small price to pay. When I look back on that time, and think of how frustrated I would get because things would be so much easier if we could just do things a tiny bit differently (like, hey, administration, how about NOT imprisoning us in our dorms at the first sign of rain?), I try to remind myself that things could've been much worse.

I could've still been in public school.

And we all know how well Beatnik Belle did in public school.

*coughnotverywellcoughcough*


STOLEN DIALOGUE!!!!!

"How did Buddha die? He got food poisoning, right? He ate at Glar."

"In other words...stop arguing over religion!"

"Sorry about all the f-bombs...I'm declaring nuclear war on angst tonight."

"Look on the bright side: It's better to be a ghost than a zombie."

"A chastity ring? WHAT IS THIS FUCKERY...or lack thereof?"

Person one: What do you see when you look at this picture? Someone who's exhausted?
Person two: Someone who's ready to fall over on the keyboard, yes.

"Wouldn't it be nice if homework could just hand itself into the teacher? Like, 'Hey, I just did myself, here you go.' Oh, shit, that sounded dirty..."

"Don't worry...the true/false section of the test is the only place where I like to be a smartass."

Interlochen February, Day 5: Let it Snow...and Snow...and Snow...

DAY 5
February 6
Prompt: "SNOW. SNOW, SNOW, SNOW."

Everyone who reads this blog knows that I adore snow. I was always a snow-lover--I was the kind of child who thought it wasn't Christmas if it didn't snow. But I must say, after two years in Northern Michigan, I developed an entirely new appreciation for snow.

Snow at Interlochen is no laughing matter. You are buried alive. I'm not kidding. You are legit buried alive. I'm not even joking. We had eight, nine, ten-foot snow piles. We actually had bets and contests debating which pile would be the first or last to melt. It started in December and didn't end until March...sometimes, it even went on into April. And during this time, if you went outside wearing Converse, you'd fall on your ass (directly into a pile of snow, too) faster than you could say "Big mistake." And don't even think about trying to wear a leather jacket on a snowy day. You'd freeze!

So imagine four months of this every year, okay? In southern Michigan it's bad enough, but up by the lake, we'd get PILES of snow. So every year, we were extremely relieved when it stopped, and the weather got warmer (even though warm weather usually brought tentworms and bewildering humidity that not even the most blustery fan could tame). But...one year...

The weather had a relapse.


I'm not kidding.

April 20, 2011:
We are nervous when we hear of an impending snowstorm, but also confident that our Interlochen would never, ever do such an evil thing to us when we were so close to graduation and only had one month left to enjoy the beautiful campus with our friends. But guess what? It snowed. Like, a lot. I mean, it was at least a foot. It was like December all over again. It was INSANE. I spent the night tucked away inside the DeRoy commons...but I know people who actually went sledding. I'm not kidding...it was a proper mindfuck, as Mishka would've said. (Or, as a clever staff member of the Blue Collar so cleverly put it, the Gods of Northern Michigan decided to take a large, white dump on us.)

This was not the only snow adventure I had...I mean, with four months a year of eight-foot snowdrifts, how could it be?...but this was the one that I remember the most because it was just so UNEXPECTED. I mean, really. Where else could you expect snow in April, besides the Midwest? (Well, okay, probably in other northern parts of the world. Shush, Realism, I'm trying to be special here.)

I don't have the time right now to recount every single detail of that night...but I can tell you that it involved dancercise tapes, watercolors, straight-girl bashing from my lovely gay friend, freaking out Isaac (always a favorite pastime of ours, it seems), and a secondhand tale of snow-running, stolen elks, and Zumba dancing.

At Interlochen, we understand snow. We embrace snow. We have to, or we go crazy. Most importantly, we understand what snow can do to a person, and what snow is really, truly good for.

WHAT SNOW IS GOOD FOR:

• Making snow-slushies with lemonade or a drink of your choice
• Making snow-forts and snow-caves and snowmen
• Going for walks and talking with your spirit twin (miss you Thomas! <3)
• Diving into piles of it when you just need a break
• Having epic snow-fights with your Dead Poet best friends
• Eating up like cheesecake when you're so thirsty you can't possibly wait to get to Stone (make sure it's clean though)
• Sneaking up on you when you least expect it...for instance, in the middle of April
• Driving you into a state of stir-craziness that induces all sorts of behavior in which you would not ordinarily participate: fort-building, Zumba dancing, elk-stealing, crush-revealing, screaming like an insane person, dancing like you're in a music video (when, uh, you are definitely not), playing Loup-Garou at an odd hour, skipping (yes, sadly, I did do this), and of course freaking out your best guy friend. (Sorry, Isaac.)
• Sliding! Or, if you're me, marveling at the fact that others can slide on large, flat patches of packed-down snow without falling and breaking several major bones and rupturing several vital organs
• Most important: Cursing at when you JUST WANT TO SEE SOME SUNSHINE ALREADY!

Enjoy your snow, Interlocheners! ;)

Interlochen February, Day 4: Art Suppression Day

DAY 4
February 5
Prompt: "Art Suppression Day (ick)."

Oh good lord. This was probably the dumbest thing that Interlochen ever did, bar none. If only I'd been in the room when they came up with this one...

President Kimpton: Okay, y'all, we need a great way to kick off the New Year. The kids just got back from break and we want to welcome them home--what do we do?
Board Member #1: Ooh, ooh, I have an idea! Let's show them what the world is like WITHOUT ART!
Board Member #2: Oh, great idea! They probably have NO IDEA what that's like!
Board Member #1: I know, right? I'm sure none of them have EVER faced censorship or lack of instruction or lack of equipment before...we need to show them what that feels like or they might graduate without knowing how it is in the real world!
Less-Clueless Board Member: Uhh...guys? Maybe they already know what the world is like without art? Seeing as, you know, most of them have transferred from public schools, where more art funding is getting cut every semester and nine times out of ten, the art students are outnumbered twenty to one by jocks?
Other Board Members: ...
President Kimpton: Great idea, Board Members #1&2! Let's do it! Let's show those spoiled kids what it's like to LIVE WITHOUT ART! I'll make some speeches, #1 can cover all the art displays with trash bags, and #2 can tell all the teachers to suppress the kids all day!
Less-Clueless Board Member: But they do that already...
President Kimpton: SILENCE FOOL!

I mean, really. That's exactly what they did: Got us out of bed for an 8 AM community meeting (and SOME OF US didn't have class until 10:30 on normal days!), forced us to watch a presentation on WHAT THE WORLD IS LIKE WITHOUT ART OMG BECAUSE NONE OF US KNEW WHAT THAT FELT LIKE, and then made us listen to Kimpton, Farraday, and Wade's speeches. And THEN, we were forced to live in a pseudo-suppressed environment for the rest of the day. We were informed that "Uniform would be strictly enforced" (but for anyone who had Kullenberg or Nadji, uniform was enforced ANYWAY), "iPods would be checked for inappropriate music," "you would not see art you'd normally see," and, my personal favorite, "You would not be allowed to practice or make art the way you normally would."

Oh, really.

OH REALLY.

Is that a fact, Mr. Fancy Pants School Administrator? Well, let's see here. Normally I get my scripts figuratively torn to pieces by every teacher and student in my workshop. Then I have to listen to my AD tell me that something isn't going to work on-set, then I have to listen to my DP tell me that something isn't going to work on-set, then I have to listen to my thesis advisor tell me why I can't have the actors I want, and then I have to listen in while freshmen and first-years are given priority for crew roles that I should get first crack at--so, you tell me, Kimpton, Farraday, and Wade, how exactly am I "allowed" to practice my art usually? Filmmaking is not like drawing or creative writing or music--you can't just sit down and do it by yourself. It's a collaborative process, and in film school, when every last thing you do is graded, that goes double. So, really, you can't possibly "suppress" us any more than they usually do.

Added to which, most of the other majors at Interlochen felt the same way. I've heard the visual arts majors complaining because nude portraits are not allowed. I've heard theatre majors complaining that the same few people get the main roles every year. Film was not the only major with issues. Not to mention the fact that, as I mentioned, a lot of us were crossovers from public schools, where most art programs play second string--if they even exist--to the football team or baseball team or whatever sports team happens to be in-season. So chew on that for awhile...and then "show us what it feels like to be suppressed." Because, clearly, we have no idea. Because, clearly, that wasn't the whole reason we came to Interlochen in the first place--to escape that suppression.

But, being the artists that we are, we still rebelled--because it was just too stupid to not have SOME sort of reaction to this tomfoolery. Apparently (and oh, how I wish how I'd been there to witness this) a group of percussion majors paraded up the concourse and ripped down all the plastic trash bags covering the displays. People wrote all kinds of witty things on the paper tablecloths we were supposed to "write our opinions" on at Stone. (As Mishka so aptly informed the administration via those cloths, "You will get used to seeing the word 'bullshit'...you will fool yourself into thinking that this was a success.")

But my favorite thing that we did was make a huge banner that read "ART MOVED" and hang it over the sign at the entrance.

Here is what I love so much about that day: It did not tell us anything we didn't already know about "art suppression." It did not make us appreciate art more. But what we did--putting up the ART MOVED banner--was such a perfect, innocent, cheeky way of standing up for ourselves. It was a nice, subtle, jokey-but-no-really-we're-serious-here way of saying, "We are not going to put up with this." What with everything that's currently going on at Interlochen, I think this is something that all current students--and rebels--need to keep in mind: Don't try to steamroller the administration--but do make sure that they get your point.

Interlochen February, Day 3: Open Room Madness

DAY 3
February 4
Prompt: "Open rooms."

Few Interlochen traditions are as mystifying as the open room. Okay, so you've got boys, most of whom are gay, and you've got girls, most of whom are single, and yet the administration thinks that if you have any less than four people of mixed genders in a room together, for a period longer than one or two hours, at any other time than 5-9 PM on weekdays and 7-10 PM on weekends, sex will be the main festivity. I still can't work that one out.

But open rooms are magical in their own way: you can gather in a friend's room and do absolutely nothing of any importance, and still have the time of your life. I've met some amazing people in open rooms. I've seen some amazing things in open rooms. I haven't even participated in that many open rooms--but the few that I have been involved with, I've never forgotten.

But there is one open room that will forever stand out in my memory...

Rewind the clock back to the first semester of my junior year of high school. I'm minding my own business, just hanging out in my dorm room, when I get a call from the ever-lovely Gustavo, who invites me to come and hang out in his room. What he doesn't mention is that there are about half a dozen people there, one of whom I don't even know. Now, I can't remember what time of year this is, but I really want to say either October or November, because I don't remember there being snow on the ground, and we had snow the second we got back from break that year--but it was definitely cold, and it definitely wasn't September.

So I get there, and I see the usual suspects--Gustavo, Mishka, Erica, Ahmed, and I think Sam was there, but I don't remember--and there's another girl there, who I don't know, but seems to be incredibly nice. I don't think we even properly introduced ourselves, but I do remember that I didn't catch her name at first and was too shy to ask her to repeat it. I remember thinking that she looked like she'd be very nice to hug, but of course I didn't want to just walk up to her and hug her; that's generally gotten me in trouble in the past.

I spent most of that open room laughing at the antics of Mishka and Erica--and unless you've met Erica, you can't possibly understand why. Erica is quite possibly the funniest pianist that Interlochen has ever been lucky enough to educate. With her unwitting humor, adorable accent, and hysterical butchering of every rule of political correctness in the book, she was one of the most valuable assets to our rebellion--no one could help but love her.

That night, the topic was, if I recall correctly, Kurt Cobain and his glamour (or lack thereof, depending on who you asked). I remember that at some point, Gus turned on a disco ball. I remember Mishka lecturing Erica about the difference between celebrity-based romanticism and actual depression. And I remember, because I wrote it down, a quintessential Mishka quote:

"Did I just make 'smartassity' a word?"
(Yes, Mishka. Yes, you did, and we are forever grateful to you for doing so.)

I don't think I even really said much. I just sat back and watched the delightful entertainment that was the Mishka and Erica Show.

So afterwards, we're all walking back to our dorms to sign in. I'm talking to Ellie (I later learned that was her name) and discover that we're technically neighbors (she lived right across the street from me). And the rest, as they say, would be history. Imagine a little montage of us over the next two years--lots and lots of hugs, going jogging in the woods, arguing about yoga and whether or not she should go to MORP, more open rooms with our friends, talking about classmates (and former classmates) at Stone, having adventures in the Writing House, and chilling in MB. And if I hadn't gone to that open room, just think--I might not've met one of the sweetest, coolest people at Interlochen.

This is the magic of open rooms: You go into one because you're bored. You come out of it with memories, inside jokes, and--if you're incredibly lucky--friendships that last forever.



Update: It is finally snowing at McDaniel...now THAT'S more like it!

Interlochen February, Day 2: Only at Interlochen

DAY 2
February 3
Prompt: "It could ONLY happen at Interlochen."

This is the kind of Saturday night that could only happen at Interlochen:

So, in my senior year, there was a small group of us, led by Mishka and I and some of our best friends, that would play games in the Writing House whenever we got bored, hide-and-seek or "fight games" being our preference. So one night in mid-February, a bunch of us got bored (this is the beginning of a LOT of Interlochen stories: "some of us got bored") and decided to play a game of "Evil Scientist," where one person was the mad scientist, one team was her assistants, and the other was the police. The object of the game was to capture the mad scientist and "kill" her before she could destroy the world. Niki, the mad scientist, had Mishka and Emily H-C (a.k.a. the best fighters) on her team. Thomas and I were the police/government agents trying to capture Niki and her followers. Does this sound like a game that normal teenagers would play on a Saturday night? I doubt it.

A little context: Emily H-C and I had just finished a death-defying Physics assignment, and I had just had upwards of two dozen S'mores. I was sugar-high, and Emily and I were both post-homework high, and Mishka and Thomas were just bored (if I recall correctly). And Niki? She was always ready to engage in Dead Poet festivities. And one more little piece of information: You know those two dozen S'mores? Well, the reason I could get them in the first place was because that night just happened to be S'mores Night...which was almost always held at the Writing House. So, in addition to us, there were a couple of counselors and a few dozen spectators.

So, the games begin. I'll spare the gory details--all you need to know is that one of my MPA rivals witnessed me getting tackled by a fifteen-year-old girl one-third of my size, we almost got killed in an elevator, those of us wearing glasses got our specs knocked off multiple times, and it ended with Emily getting "epic rug burn," me getting a swollen lip, and Niki getting a bruised foot. (Lucky Mishka and Thomas, however, managed to escape injury.)

The fight in itself was epic--I swear, nothing is more cathartic than eating a bunch of chocolate and then burning the calories by getting your ass kicked--but afterwards, we played Loup-Garou (and if you don't know what that is, I suggest you Google it), and for the first time ever, I got to narrate (a.k.a. lead the game). Even with just five of us there--the game generally is more fun with more people--it led to quite a bit of laughter. Just to give a light background: Loup-Garou is French for "werewolf," and the objective of the game is for the werewolves to take over a village. There. That's my explanation. ;)

So THEN, it was time for us to sign in...but the fun didn't end there. Oh, no. I get back to DeRoy, my dorm, and discover that there is a fort-building contest in the making. Well, I couldn't miss out on that, could I? So I gathered as many sheets and heavy books from my room as I could, and assisted the rest of the girls on my floor in making a fort that was a true throwback to childhood: furniture for walls, sheets for curtains, cushions on the floor so we had something to sit on--and of course, the TV was totally visible and accessible, because what can you DO in a fort besides watch movies? This was girl bonding to the ultimate extreme. Even this late in the year, I didn't know half the girls on my floor very well, or even by name...but after that night, you can bet I did.

In the end, the boys won the fort-building contest, thanks to Aaron Tyson and his gaff tape, but we still had a damn good time. And of course, I couldn't let the night end without one more act of rebellion, so I jacked a handful of chocolate bars from the leftover s'mores supplies and took them upstairs to my girls...a perfect end to a perfect night. ;)

This all happened in one night. Can you believe that? Because I sure can't. And guess what? This was a totally normal occurrence at Interlochen. If this is a typical Saturday night for your high school...well, either you go to Interlochen, or this is not a typical Saturday night at your high school. That's really all there is to it.


STOLEN DIALOGUE (because I actually have some today! Wheeee!)

"This is tough, it's dry, it's overcooked, it's hard to cut...it's everything you want in a bad piece of meat."

"On another note, I like pie."

"If you examine it with any level of detail, Star Wars has more plot holes than Swiss cheese."

"If your gods are begging the Buddha to stick around, maybe you should take the Buddha seriously!"

"This is what the future looks like...no bras."

"The poke must go on!"

[In class, the computer keeps freezing while watching a DVD, at one point it freezes on a card that reads, "Let the dead rest in peace."
Student: Let this computer rest in peace!

"There's just something about me that says 'Badass' to the repressed Christian types."

Person one: Whatever she says, it's a lie.
Person two: We were talking about gay marriage.
Person one: ...

"I swear, he's afraid of vaginas! He cringes every time we talk about Vagina Monologues! I'm afraid of dead bodies, but I walked into the Catacombs...I'd like to see him walk into a cave full of vaginas!"

"I already hugged you, what do you want from me?!"

"It's like the double jeopardy of mistranslation."

"So I'm trying to decide, do I listen to the ultimate cessation argument, or do I listen to the Barbie Girl song?"

"That is a LOT of vagina on your shirt..."

"You could do a real feminist number on the story of Buddha."

Interlochen February: Inaugural post and prompt #1

A brief introduction:

In honor of the terrifying February that we used to endure at Interlochen (my fellow alumni will know what I'm talking about), I've decided that this month will be INTERLOCHEN FEBRUARY. (I may do this next year, too. I don't know. We'll see.)

The concept? Simple: Every day in February, I will recall one memory from Interlochen, each one a prompt of some kind--a word, a day of the week, an incident, a holiday, anything of that sort. For instance, Mishka might tell me, "Write about snow," and I will have to choose a memory associated with snow and write about it. Sounds easy enough, right?

So I meant to start this yesterday, but it got knocked out of place by the Italy Diaries. (Sorry about that, Inty people.) But yes, for those who are wondering, I WILL do this every day. Yes, even tomorrow, on Vagina Monologues opening night (and if you live in Westminster, you should really come and see it, it's going to be amazing), when I'm going to be crazy-busy. So enjoy this, fellow Inty alumni and Inty-lovers--this is going to be one giant month of "Never Forget."

DAY 1

February 2

Prompt: "Something that made me laugh."

Oh, Lord, there are too many to choose from...but I think I'll go with one that happened my junior year. The first day of my junior thesis shoot was a total riot...but our last shot was without question the funniest. Andrew Way, the actor playing Gavin, was supposed to say, "Ronnie, don't go, I like you," and Alex Diehl (Ronnie) was supposed to reply with "I'm straight" and walk away. After he walked out, Andrew was supposed to curl up on the bed, crushed, but since we were filming a frontal angle of both boys, when Andrew laid on the bed after the rejection it was an extremely awkward view of his plaid pajama-covered backside. I told him, "Okay, this time we won't go all the way to the end of that take, because we already have coverage of you on the bed." Andrew decided to take advantage of this, and after Alex "rejected" him, he stared at Alex's retreating form and emphatically said, "Fuck!" The entire crew collapsed in laughter as I managed to screech, "CUT!" and proceeded to nearly pass out laughing. I swear, that moment alone was worth the hellish pre-production process.

Got a sense of how this works now? If you have an idea/prompt, feel free to let me know. :)

Also, if anyone wants to see "Possession" (I can't believe I'm doing this!) you can watch it here:

"Possession" on Facebook

(The above outtake, however, will sadly not be included. :( Maybe someday in the future...)

The Italy Diaries, Part I

So, as I briefly hinted at in my last post...

I WENT TO ITALY ON A SCHOOL PHOTO TOUR FOR TWELVE DAYS.

This actually happened.

I have no idea how I got to be so lucky.

But I did.

In the words of Adrien Monk, here's what happened: I went on this trip, where we basically did nothing but walk/drive/boat across southern Italy and take pictures, and kept a journal of the whole thing. So now I'm going to post my journal entries, which range in length and depth from I-just-wrote-this-quickly-for-the-sake-of-writing-something to I-think-I'll-just-write-a-small-novel-here, because I COULD go back and describe the whole thing from memory...but this'll just be so much more fun.

So, to begin with, the itinerary: We left on January 6th at 6 PM and arrived in London on the seventh at 9 AM, and ended up in Rome sometime around 2 PM, which meant a one-hour layover (which nearly killed me). Then, we spent one day in Rome, one day in Vatican City, and one day in Naples and Pompeii. Then, we went to the Amalfi coast and toured Sorrento and Ravello, and THEN we spent the night on the ferry so we could transfer to Sicily, where we spent six days exploring the island. Finally, we got up at an ungodly hour and flew back to
London, had a five-hour layover (which was much, MUCH less stressful than the one-hour layover) and got back to the States at six in the evening (which, thanks to the time difference, felt like midnight to our poor, confused bodies...don't know about my fellow Italygoers, but I passed out pretty damn quick that night).

That's the basic outline. Now, get ready for...

THE ITALY DIARIES: PART 1

January 4, 2012
So, I just want to say, right now, that I don't hate America. I really don't. But I'm so ready to get off this continent! I've heard so many stories from my family about going overseas--gotten postcards from Iceland and Paris--seen the pictures on Facebook--even seen videos from my high-school classmates' trip to London. I'm jealous--I can't help it. Even my dad has been to Australia, where I DESPERATELY want to go--but the only foreign country I've ever visited was Canada, and I've never even stayed overnight, just seen the same tiny town and park and beach. (Not that I don't like it, mind you--I'd move there, given the chance--but that's another story.)
My point is, I want to get out of the country. I've seen the pictures, heard the stories. To hell with that--I want to experience it!
All anyone cares about, when I mention I'm going to Italy, is the food. They'll say, "Oh, you'll eat so well there! The pizza is so amazing!" Okay, great. But what about everything else?! There is soooo much more to Italy than pizza and pasta. Even worse, I get a lot of "Ohhh, Italy, eh?--wink wink, nudge nudge--" followed by, "I hope you're single!" Oh, for the love of all that's holy! Yes, I am single, and it's going to stay like that for awhile, Italy or no Italy. I don't want to live out The Lizzie McGuire Movie! That is not my reason for doing this!
Here's why I'm going to Italy: I have read about amazing places all my life, and I finally have a chance to go to one of them--and that has nothing to do with "cute boys" or "pizza." I want to go because I've seen Italy through a computer screen--now it's time to see it for real!

~~~

January 7, 2012
First impressions of Italy:
Wow.
Wow, wow, wow. This is not--repeat, NOT--like America. Not in the least. You can just sense it when you get off the plane. Going through customs and passport checking was nothing like going from the U.S. to Canada. In the U.S., you're pretty much interrogated--who are you, where are you going, what's your business? Here, the man just looked at my passport, stamped it, and that was that.
I discovered something about myself today, too: I am a horrible international traveler. I really am. So far, I've forgotten three essential items (hair ties, brush, and umbrella), been unable to sleep on the plane, nearly burned myself in the shower, worn the wrong shoes, almost lost my iPod, accidentally tripped a flight attendant, and almost killed myself during the layover. I've always thought of myself as someone who liked to travel, but by the time we got to the hotel, I was seriously considering revising that statement. I know it's my first plane ride (well, sort of), but really, I should've done better than I did today.
I couldn't sleep on the plane at all. Not for lack of trying, I assure you--I was exhausted. But every time I fell asleep, we'd hit turbulence, or my seatmate would move, or a flight attendant would wake me up, or someone would knock into me on the way to the bathroom. It was ridiculous!
And don't get me started on the layover. I mean, really--a saint would've had a hard time dealing with that, especially after no sleep! I really tried hard to stay positive, though. I did manage to sleep for a bit on the second flight, so by the time we landed in Italy, I was in a much better mood.
The bathroom in my room is so crazy! There seems to be two toilets, and there's no door on the shower--just a little plexiglass panel that comes about halfway down the bathtub. And the towel rack is heated--actually heated! You'd never see that in a standard American hotel room!
Our room is about ten million degrees Celsius. Not kidding. And I'm not sure if the window opens (and I'm not about to test it; my roommate's trying to sleep and I'm not sure figuring it out will be a quiet affair).
Dinner was amazing. I've never had real Italian pizza before, but now I know what everyone meant when they told me that no pizza would be good enough after real Italian pizza. I've also made a new rule for myself, for while I'm here: If I haven't tried something before, and someone offers or recommends it, I have to try it. If I'm picky here, I'll miss out on too much.
I'd write more, but I'm so tired I can barely hold the pen straight. Tomorrow I finally get to see the Trevi Fountain--I CAN'T WAIT!

~~~

January 8, 2012
7:11 AM:
I don't seem to be jet lagged at all, which is definitely good. I'll admit I'm a little nervous about the tours today today--not because I think I'm going to screw up, but because I've only just realized how far from home I really am. Last night, I was too tired to really get it--I mean I got that I was in a foreign country, but it felt like I could just jump in the car and be home in a few hours. Now I realize I am NOT home, in any sense of the word. I can't just go back to my dorm when I get tired. If, God forbid, I lose my money, passport, or memory cards, I can't just call my parents and ask for help. It scares me a little, because there are just so many things that can go wrong, and I don't know if I'll be able to handle that if/when it happens.

10:24 PM:
Rome is AMAZING. I've never seen anything like it. Yes, there are tourist traps, just like in every other major city--but that's such a small part of it. I think what I love most about Rome is that there's so much history--and it's all right out in the open for everyone to see. In America, most of our real history is broken into artifacts, or re-created or made into models, and tucked away in a museum where only those who know where to look can find it. In America, old is bad, and buildings are torn down or renovated at the slightest sign of disrepair, and replaced the moment they're even slightly obsolete--but here, it's all out in the open, almost exactly the way it was thousands of years ago.
Just walking down the street was a special experience. Even with my eyes shut (which, trust me, I did NOT do for very long), I could tell I was in a different country, just from the sounds. There were street musicians every few feet, and I could hear about a dozen different languages in the conversations around me. Every now and then, I'd hear the sound of a horse's hooves and carriage wheels rolling over the stone roads. You wouldn't hear any of this in America--not all at once in the same place, at least.
Vendors kept pushing their wares at us, usually touristy things like "I <3 Roma" t-shirts and keychains shaped like the Colosseum. Now don't get me wrong, I want souvenirs, but I want things I'll actually wear or use for a long time--and I know I'll only wear an "I <3 Roma" t-shirt once or twice, if that. I bought myself a cloche instead. Yes, I could have gotten that in America--but it was cute, it was on sale, and I know I'll wear it, and think of the Piazza Navona, with its carnival-like atmosphere and beautiful fountains, every time I do. And at any rate, I'd rather have a pretty, classy hat than an "I <3 Roma" t-shirt that any normal human will scorn me for wearing.
Oh, and all those disasters I envisioned? None happened. I did have a few camera battery issues, but It all worked out, and I know how to prevent a repeat performance. So, it looks like I've learned two important lessons: 1) NO EXCESSIVE WORRYING, and 2) ALWAYS charge your battery while you're in the hotel room!
Being in a city like this is so strange--but in a good way. Like I said, at home--even in D.C.--the historical stuff is mostly hidden. And almost none of it is older than a few hundred years. So to walk down the street, and suddenly BOOM, there's a 2000-year-old ruin, is a little overwhelming. Even more so when you add in the tourist stands, and street musicians, and all the different languages--wow.

Tomorrow, we're going to the Vatican. I'm psyched--I've wanted to see the Sistine Chapel since I was a kid. I'm definitely curious about the Scavi tour, but I'm a little bit nervous about it, too. Going underground has never been my favorite thing to do, especially where dead bodies, or death in general, will be concerned. But I'm not sure what will actually be under the Basilica, and if what goes down tomorrow is anything like what went down today, I've got nothing to worry about.

~~~

January 9, 2012

I'm EXHAUSTED. But I am also RIDICULOUSLY proud of myself. Today, I spent about 60% of my day with sore feet (I hadn't quite recovered from yesterday), and had I been with my parents I probably would've whined like a baby. Being with the tour group forced me to act my age, and yes, I am capable of doing that without an audience, but today I realized just how immature I can be with my parents--and then I wonder why they treat me like a child! Well, they won't after they hear what I did today...

I finally got to see Vatican City and the breathtaking Sistine Chapel, which I'll cover in a moment, but like I said before, it was hard to enjoy some of the trip because my feet hurt worse than they've ever hurt before (and between theater running crew and film sets, that's saying something). Even worse, we didn't get any kind of break until after we toured St. Peter's Basilica--so I wasn't exactly in the best of moods by that point. But then Rita showed us how to get into the city so we could get something to eat while we waited for the Scavi tour...and that was when the real adventure began.
Now, to some people, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a new result each time. But my definition has changed after today: Walking through Vatican City on your own, during your first-ever trip to Italy. When I realized that I was on my own, I froze for a minute. Then I decided to be either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, and went off to get some semblance of lunch before I met my group...in half an hour.
Vatican City is lovely...as long as you're inside the museum or Basilica. Downtown, it looks exactly like any other Italian town: Loud, crowded, and full of reckless drivers. I almost got run over by a motorcyclist--in a crosswalk! No one watches where they're going, I swear they don't. And there was practically no decent-looking place in the immediate vicinity to get food, and I didn't want to go too far, because I didn't want to be late for my tour group. I ended up getting a tiny gelato at a sandwich shop the size of my closet (about ten minutes after making it into town and across the street, for reference), ate it as fast as humanly possible...and then got myself lost. Well, as lost as one can be less than 50 feet from their intended destination, that is. I could see the Basilica from where I was standing...it was GETTING to the Basilica that was the problem. I was at a busy street corner across from the Basilica, which freaked me out because I knew I hadn't crossed there to get into the downtown area.

My usual reaction would've been to cry. But this time I stopped myself and said, "Okay, crying will just make things worse. First, try to find out what time it is. Ask that priest over there, he might speak English. Okay, now look around--what side of the street were you on when you got here?" I knew I was on the other side of the street (not on the side of the Basilica, but the side leading up to the Basilica), so I crossed over, walked back a few feet towards a pizzeria that I was using as a landmark, and then I found the correct path back to St. Peter's. Easy as that. Didn't panic, didn't ask for directions. Just calmly, logically got myself where I needed to be. That felt really good.

So then it was off to the Scavi tour, and right off the bat, the guide warned us that space would be tight under the Basilica--uh-oh. Then he started talking about moving dead bodies from one grave to another--double uh-oh. So now I was standing in a dimly-lit hallway, looking at a tiny doorway that I was 100% sure held a narrow tunnel. Was I terrified? Do you have to ask? And let me tell you, I was not looking forward to seeing crypts, mausoleums, bones, or whatever else could've been down there--at that point, I really didn't want to know. The tour guide had told us at the beginning of the tour that if we had to leave, we could, and believe me, at that point I was ready to do just that.
But I didn't. I sucked it up and went in, sore feet, claustrophobia, nerves and all. And I won't lie--for the first ten minutes or so, I was scared out of my mind. But once we got into the more open areas, and I really got involved in what the tour was about, I started to enjoy it a lot more. True, I would've enjoyed it more if my feet hadn't hurt so much, but it was so worth it.
I think the moment that hit me the hardest was when we finally saw the jawbone of St. Peter. Until that moment, I'd thought we might get to see a box labeled "St Peter's bones" or something like that. But we did get to see his bones--and I can't even describe how amazing that was. I actually shivered a bit when I saw it. The fact that I was less than ten feet from the bones of a man who personally knew Jesus Christ still blows my mind. In a world where people constantly demand proof--"If God is real, PROVE to me that He exists"--it was so amazing to hear the story of how the bones were found. For a long time, no one knew the bones were there. They just believed the bones were there--and guess what? Their faith was not misplaced. That place shouldn't just be a holy spot for Catholics. Every Christian should hear that story--if you need a faith boost, I don't think I've heard a Christianity-related story as inspiring as the story of St. Peter and his grave under the Basilica.
But it's far from the only beautiful thing in Vatican City. There's the legendary Sistine Chapel of course, which I'd wanted to see forever--and let me tell you, it was NOT disappointing. Not in the least. I didn't know where to look first! The place is HUGE. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to paint the whole ceiling, with such intricate detail...did it really only take him four years? It took me four MONTHS to do four watercolors for a school project--how could it not take someone at least a decade to do a building the size of that chapel?
Overall, I'd say this was a good day. I confronted my fears and learned a lot of cool stuff--exactly why I came to Italy in the first place. The longer I stay here, the less I want to leave. This is, so far, exactly how I hoped this trip would be.

~~~

January 10, 2012
POMPEII.
It's real. It's amazing. And it's HUGE. This is not just a tiny bit of a city that we're talking about here--this is an actual town that actual people actually lived in, thousands of years ago. Walking through the ruins was surreal--I could almost picture a busy Roman town 2,000 years ago, but at the same time, it almost felt unreal, like a legend come to life. It was weird. But it was awesome--and so worth the sore feet. (Cobblestones do not like modern feet. Walking was nearly impossible. Add in lack of coordination and...ouch.)

To begin with, the drive from Rome was breathtaking. I love, love, LOVE a waterfront view of any kind, in any place--this probably comes from growing up in Michigan, not even a full mile from a lake--so as you can probably imagine, I was in heaven when we drove through Naples. It's so beautiful, in every city we've visited. In America, you don't see this kind of beauty in every town--you see it in a few rare, picturesque places. But here, every single place we've seen is straight out of a movie. I'm a filmmaker; you can imagine how happy that makes me. In fact, part of the reason that I came here was to find inspiration for my films--and so far, I've found it in buckets.
And that brings us to reason #2 that I came to Italy, which nicely ties into today: Pompeii. When I was in the 6th grade, I read a book called The Pirates of Pompeii, about the aftermath of the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. After that, I knew I had to see Pompeii someday. Of course, back then I didn't realize that the city was in ruins, or that the eruption actually wiped out the entire population. I just wanted to see the place where this amazing book was set. So when I saw Pompeii on the trip itinerary, way back in September, my first thought was "Sign me up."
And I wasn't disappointed, I'll tell you that right now. Every last moment in Pompeii was amazing, from the lunch we had before we saw the ruins to the sunset on the way to the new hotel. And the photo opportunities were endless. There is one particularly, er, interesting picture of me trying to pose in the remains of a 2,000-year-old brothel (just for you, Mishka!)...but that wasn't really what I meant when I said "photo opportunities." I meant that we had so many moments where the framing and lighting just set themselves up, and we didn't have to do anything but press the button.
And then there were those pictures that took SO MUCH WORK, but were completely worth it in the end...like my picture of the sunset on the way to the hotel. Dear God, that sunset. I wish I'd been sitting on the right side of the bus when I saw that sunset. As it was, I did manage to get a miraculous photo of it...and I did it by standing in the aisle. (The miracle was that I didn't fall over and break my neck--or worse, my camera--in the process.) I'd submit it to the daily photo contest if I had internet. But yeah...that one's definitely going in my top ten. I just hope I don't run out of memory cards!

~~~

January 12, 2012
UGH.
And with that eloquent statement, I sum up the last 24 hours.
The Amalfi coast was absolutely beautiful. So much better than it looked on the websites. And thank God I was sitting on the right side of the bus this time, so I got some pretty good pictures. I hung out with Maria and Shelby when we actually stopped in Amalfi, which was pretty cool because Maria got this gigantic gelato, and that provided endless photo opportunities, including one or two that I'm fairly certain will have to go in my top ten.
But the good part of the day ended as soon as we started heading back towards Naples. My acid reflux flared up (ew!) mid-bus ride, so that was "fun"...and then, when we were boarding the ferry, I completely humiliated myself on the escalator (I HATE ESCALATORS WITH A BURNING PASSION), and as if THAT'S not enough, I couldn't sleep on the boat, so when they woke us up (at six AM, mind you), I was NOT ready to get up. So being sleep-deprived as I was, I made an ass of myself on the escalators AGAIN...Lauren's dad had to help me so I wouldn't hurt myself or someone else...and let me tell you, it was NOT a good way to start the day.
So after a nice, mild church stop (more top-ten possibilities--yay!), we got to the Catacombs...and let me remind you, me + dead things = disaster, so I knew I was going to have a hard time. But I thought, well I was afraid of the Scavi tour, and I ended up having a good time there...so I gave it a shot.
Biggest.
Mistake.
EVER.
Maybe some people enjoyed it. I guess I could see why--it was pretty interesting to see how the fashions changed over the ages. (In the Catacombs, dead people from centuries ago are embalmed, dressed, and displayed on the walls. And there are 8,000 of them--at least. Can you just imagine how freaked out I was?) All I know is, we got inside and I lost it. I was crying before our entire group was even inside--though to be fair, that was mostly out of shock, and because I had an up-close-and-personal encounter with a particularly iffy-looking skull when I first came inside. It was like being inside a giant, really realistic Halloween store. I wanted out the minute I set foot in there.
But I kept going. I did the whole tour. I managed to calm down, and stop crying, after a few minutes. But this time there was no sense of pride when it was over. No, "You go girl--you're so brave!" like after the Scavi tour. I was just relieved to be out of there. But it stayed with me. I couldn't enjoy the next chapel or the square, because I kept seeing the Catacombs in my mind. So far, out of all the places and things we've seen in Italy, the Catacombs has been the only place that I've truly hated. But it's over now, and I never have to go back.
Let me just say, for the record, that I know we went into the Catacombs because it's an education and unique (to say the least!) experience, not because Professor Bloom wanted to scare the hell out of us. And I did learn a bit today, and I'm not just referring to the new knowledge of exactly how weak my stomach actually is. I just wish I'd been brave enough to say no, instead of going in just to prove I wasn't scared (and we all know how well THAT worked out.)
But it wasn't the only thing we did today, and it's far from the most memorable thing we've done in Italy. Tonight we went out to dinner, in this little home-style restaurant a short walk from our hotel, and I had a great time. I sat with Mike, Maria, Meg, and my roommate Shelby. I wasn't expecting to say this, but here goes: They're my new friends. Friends. Not "people who put up with me just for the short time while we're on this trip" but actual friends--and if you'd asked me before the trip what I thought was more likely, me making friends with the upperclassmen or every one of the corpses in the Catacombs coming to life and performing "Thriller" for us, I'd have told you it was the latter. (And come to think of it, that might've actually been cool, because then I wouldn't have been the only one freaking out.) I only knew Maria, and not very well, before I came on the trip, and I didn't know my roommate at all. But I'd forgotten how quickly people bond when they have to, and bond we did. I didn't expect any more than to just get along with the people on this trip, because they all knew each other before...or so I thought...and I didn't really know anyone. But I've actually made friends here--and that's well worth a trip to the Creepy Catacombs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More to come soon--though I'm not sure when; I have to turn in my trip diary today, and I don't know when the professor will give it back. In the meantime, stay tuned for more Italy stories, and some good old-fashioned college adventures!