A brief rant...

I'll just reiterate: College = hard. Not much time for blogging. I hate it, but that's the way it is. This past week I had two midterms, a test, and an essay. AND I lost my room key...AND I got stain remover all over my desk...AND I've been at my cousin's house all weekend. So. Yeah. This will probably be my last GIANTMONSTERPOST; I've decided that from here on out, I'd rather write shorter, chattier posts than try to do novella-posts and end up having no time and no blog post. Just so you know.

But for now, I wish to engage in a brief rant...

Why is it, fellow female cinema geeks, that there are so few film festivals just for films made by women?

I knew that opening would catch your attention.

"But Beatnik Belle," you protest, "google-searching 'women's film festival' brings up 3,460,00 results! Aren't those festivals for films made by women?"

Well, yes and no.

Here's the thing, you guys: My film fits no niches. It has no political, religious, or moral message. Whatever meaning you draw from it is yours and yours alone. I have no agenda. There are no minorities (except perhaps virgin rockstars) represented. I'm eighteen and in college, so I can't work the "high-school prodigy" angle anymore (not that that ever worked to begin with in my case). I'm not Jewish, Catholic, African-American, Spanish-American, Native American, or any other ethnic or religious minority. I'm not a lesbian, and even if I were, the film I'm currently promoting has no significance to the LGBT community.

My last resort, then, my last hope for a "niche" to use to promote my film, is the fact that I, a woman, wrote, directed, and edited my film under a female advisor. Women in the film industry are rare, and if you don't believe me, recall the fact that it took 81 Academy Award ceremonies before a woman director won Best Picture. So, I turn to women's film festivals in hope of finding a "niche" for my film...but guess what? There are problems there as well.

You think I'm about to go into a feminist rant, right? You think I'm about to complain about how underrepresented women are in the film industry?

No.

No, because you already know that.

Here's what you probably didn't know, unless you are, like me, a struggling female filmmaker:

There are very few festivals specifically held for ordinary narrative films directed, written, and edited by female filmmakers.

Are you confused yet? Let me explain: I don't mean that there are no women's film festivals, because there definitely are. I mean that 90% of the film festivals are not just for women filmmakers. They are for women filmmakers who make films starring women, promoting feminism, or raising awareness of women's health issues.

Now, I am not saying that promoting awareness of women's health and domestic issues is a bad thing. I'm part of the Advocacy Team at my school; I've campaigned to get better education for girls from financially challenged families, campaigned to stop human trafficking, worn the pink ribbon for breast cancer awareness, donated to domestic violence campaigns, the whole nine yards. And hey, if having film festivals supporting these issues makes a difference, if they make a difference, then yes, PLEASE utilize that to full power. The bottom line: I am all for making a difference and using film to do that.

But here's where I have a problem: when every single women's film festival demands that all submitted films not only be written and directed by women, but ABOUT women's issues and women's health...AND have an all-women or mostly-women crew. When there is a good film written, directed, and edited by a woman that is NOT about feminism or health, and has a crew with men in the prominent roles, and that film can't get into any festivals...that's where I have a problem.

The thing is, I've called several women's festivals that haven't specified a particular issue on their website and asked for more info. No less than FOUR of these phone calls have had a red-flag-raising result: I've been chatting with whoever's on the phone and it's been going really well, only to have the conversation screech to a halt the second they hear what my film is about. Paraphrased transcript:

Me: Hi, I'm a film student at McDaniel College and recent graduate of the Motion Picture Arts program at Interlochen Arts Academy and I'm calling for more information about your film festival.

Friendly women's film festival representative: What would you like to know?

Me: What's your submission fee?

FWFFR: [insert sometimes-good, sometimes-outrageous amount here]

Me: Okay, and where is your festival held?

FWFFR: [insert sometimes probable, sometimes impossible-to-get-to location here]

Me: Okay...do you have any submission guidelines not listed on your website?

FWFFR: No, all our guidelines are listed on our site. As long as you're a woman filmmaker, you're eligible.

Me: The film doesn't have to be about a specific topic or promote a specific issue?

FWFFR: Not that I'm aware of.

Me: Would a romantic comedy be eligible?

FWFFR: That's entirely possible. What is your film called?

Me: He's A Rockstar.

FWFFR: Hmm, interesting title...what's it about?

Me: [insert two-sentence synopsis here]

*cue crickets*

Suddenly not-so-friendly WFFR: So...your protagonist is male?

Me: Well...yes.

SNSFWFFR: Hmm...well...you can submit it and we can check it out, see if it's right for our festival... [doesn't outright state that the film will probably not be accepted]

By this point in the conversation I am usually ready to kill someone. Either that, or I'm seriously doubting myself and wondering whether or not I should've made Emerson the protagonist. At the end of the last phone call that ended like this, I burst into tears and was halfway through writing a film about domestic violence before I managed to calm myself down.

Here's another thing: My films, in case no one has as of yet noticed (admittedly this question is mainly geared towards people who actually know me, and have seen more of my stuff), usually feature male protagonists. Now, before you point me in the direction of the nearest therapist and/or Transgender Issues Film Festival, let me make a few things perfectly clear:

1) I am a female. And I am proud of that. And I have no desire to change that. End of discussion.

2) I grew up with a LOT of male friends. (I went to a martial arts studio from the time I was ten, for Pete's sake; what do you expect?)

3) Two of my best friends are male, and I absolutely love them to pieces and would die for either one of them and, back in the lovely days when we actually lived on the same campus in the same state, spent waaay more time talking to them/hanging out with them than was probably healthy.

4) Every single guy that I have ever dated/semidated has fallen into a minority category and/or had something "wrong" with him. Examples: Mental illness, Asperger Syndrome, homosexuality (yes, I did date a closeted gay guy, and quite honestly I'll never forget that), homeschooled, atheist, homeschooled atheist, starving artist, abusive home life, Jewish, ridiculously high IQ, and just plain outcast. I probably got more screenplay material out of that than any other aspect of my life. (Weird enough for you?)

There. Now that we have that out of the way, I shall continue with my rant.

So. Many of my films, if not all of them, feature a male protagonist. Tell me I have to write an all-female film, and I'll freak out. It's funny--until I went to Sidekicks (where I had martial arts lessons) I pretty much ONLY wrote all-female stories. What happened? I really don't know. I just know that I do have a few stories in the cache right now with female protagonists, but for the most part, my primary characters tend to be of the masculine variety.

And guess what? That REALLY freaks people out. You would not believe how incredibly surprised most people are after reading my screenplay portfolio or watching any of my films. I'm a girl who writes about guys. It's simple. Only not, because everyone flips out and acts like I have something wrong with me because I don't write about "girly stuff." But really, the way I see it, the themes I write about--friendship, family, loss, joy, pain, and love--aren't gender-specific. Besides that, I can't tell you how many people have watched He's A Rockstar and said, "Yeah, I can tell that a girl directed that" or "That story is told through a woman's eyes."

So with all that in mind, I am not exactly popular with the women's film festivals. I probably should mention here that I'm not really popular with film festivals in general; I don't fit the "formula" of most of the films that festivals really want to snatch up by the handful. I am just a bit...how shall we put it?...quirky. Water-torturing aliens, virgin rockstars, pregnant geeks, partying teachers, murderous filing cabinets (don't ask--just don't), rude rubber duckies (again, don't ask), knife-wielding MPA majors, dish-throwing housewives, autistic lovers, body-snatching Playmobil, protesting orca whales, and talking jackrabbits--I've pretty much out-weirded Tim Burton at this point. Film festivals are looking for nice, conventional domestic issues, moral debate, activism, and classic experimentalism. I do not fall into any of those categories.

I'm trying, I really am, to make more films with female protagonists, focusing on actual issues. But I'm beginning to wonder why I should have to do that. I'm beginning to wonder why it is that I can make a film with a story that hasn't been told 10,000 times, with original, unique and relatable characters, and it is largely ignored, while my fellow film students retell stories that have been around since the birth of cinema and get into dozens of festivals and take top prize in every competition they enter.

I am tired of this. I really am. I don't want to "try" to write "real" stories. I don't define a "real" story as something that involves death, tragedy, and clichés. I don't define a women's film festival as a venue for feminist rants and films about health issues. Why is it that a simple, solid story can't get into a normal film festival that allegedly looks for all levels of expertise and all types of stories? And why is it that whenever someone hears that I often write from the view of a male protagonist, they either get uncomfortable or treat me as a traitor to my own gender? (To be fair, not everyone does this--just everyone in the film industry.)

Please help me out, guys. I don't know what's going on. I don't want to be Ed Wood. I just want people to see my work.

I just want to be heard.

STOLEN DIALOGUE

(only because I know you've all missed it)

"You might have a bad attitude, but for God's sake, hide it!"

"I do go to the bathroom occasionally, just like any other biological organism."

"That is a Virginia Woolf penis joke!"

"Things turn out rather crappily for her, what with the whole not-having-money thing and all."

"I think we should sing Eliza 'Happy Birthday' before we discuss how James Bond gets to convert lesbians, which is also pretty cool."

"I had a student from Uzbekistan and I did not call her 'The Uzbeki,' even though that would've been fun, you know, because I'm Becky and she's Uzbeki--she has the extra 'uz' that I do not."

"Pussy Galore...it makes you wonder, is that the name on her birth certificate?"

"Give women the right to vote and BAM, gender roles fall apart!"

"It sounds like a rhino masturbation fit!"

"England was like, 'We've made the atomic bomb! Yay!' and America was like, 'We have just created the hydrogen bomb,' and England was like, 'God damn it, United States! What the fuck?!'"

"That's like fish genocide, right there."

(teacher calling on us)

"Amanda and then Sean...who was apparently very triggered by the pillow pet story..."

Person one: You take notes on all your books?

Person two: You don't?

"Off the top of my head, that sounds like total bullshit."

"Forgive me, for I have sinned against home-baked cookies."

"At least get your bitch identification correct!"

Person one: It's hard to be like, "Okay, I'm going to stab you now!"

Person two: If someone walked into the room right now...

"Sweet mother of God, it's like a rhino orgy!"

Blogging my first Indie Short

Who here has read my scripts and wondered, Does that girl know how to write about anything but herself? Falling for an unavailable boy (Possession), trying to stick it out in a changing boarding arts school (Schematic), living out a rock-band fan fantasy (He's A Rockstar), dating a close friend (the famed Alien Water Torture) -- even in intro to screenwriting last year, my exercises always reflected things that had happened to me or my friends (roommate troubles, awkward video/media assignments, gay rights PSAs). So I think people have this idea that I HAVE to draw from my own life or my script just won't work.

Well, they are WRONG.

Here's a situation I have definitely never been in: I have never fallen in love, gotten my love interest pregnant, and then watched her die in a car accident...and then slowly gone insane and wound up in a mental hospital afterward.
I didn't think I'd be able to write anything like this. I got the idea in Intro to Fiction class last year, when we read a story called "Until Gwen" by Dennis Lehane. (I'd post a link if I could, but I can't find it anywhere online--it's in a collection of his called Coronado.) This story made me cry hysterically, not just like those teary-eyed "ending of a sad movie" moments, but really cry, the way you cry when one of your friends ends up in the hospital or your parents tell you you're moving to the suburbs.

"Until Gwen" is about a young man, fresh out of jail for stealing a diamond, with an iffy memory because he was shot twice during the robbery. He remembers the teenage Gwen, who he was in love with because she loved him for him, she made him feel like he was worth something. However, he discovers that Gwen is dead...and something else.

You can't even begin to imagine how deeply this story affected me. I could not get this out of my head. I could not stop thinking about it. We read quite a few creepy stories that semester--"Where are you going, where have you been?" by Joyce Carol Oates being #1 on the Creepy Scale--but "Until Gwen" stuck in my head for a long time. I cried at night thinking about how awful it would be, to wind up in a situation like the protagonist of that story. Awful isn't even the word for it. I have one hell of an imagination, I'll admit it--but I cannot imagine being in that situation, and I hope I never have to find out what it's really like.

I wrote the first draft of my screenplay What's Left of You during a FOC Film Festival event, stuck in the back of the room beside a sweaty cameraman and a few ushers who were clearly worn out from the four days of festivities. I scribbled down the treatment in my journal, each character walking into my mind fully formed, as if they already existed in reality: Hayden, a sensitive, abused teenage boy stuck in a small town with a terrible father, in love-at-first-sight with Mallory "Mal" Fisk, a pretty but unnoticed aspiring dancer. In this first draft, Hayden meets Mal while trying to steal money at a concert, because once again his father has squandered his paycheck on anything but feeding his only child. Instead Mal and Hayden run off together, only to be caught by Hayden's father, who forces Hayden to watch as he assaults and eventually kills Mal, not realizing that she is pregnant.

In the words of the poor unfortunate guinea pig of this treatment: "Holy crap...who are you and what have you done with Beatnik Belle?"

Three problems with this idea: 1) It was too obviously based on "Until Gwen." 2) Hayden was far too much like Gavin, from Alien Water Torture (sensitive, troubled, etc). 3) It was so dark I knew I would never be able to realistically write it.

Over the summer, What's Left of You evolved from that into a story that was almost entirely my own. Hayden changed from a carbon copy of Gavin into a smooth-talking Prince Charming that any girl could fall in love with; Mal evolved from an insecure dancer into a smart, sassy girl with a wild side that a boy like Hayden obviously couldn't help but fall in love with (and, with any luck, so will my audience). The plot changed from a crime story into a love story, focusing on the dynamic between Hayden and Mal, excluding nearly all other characters.
I also provided Hayden with an older brother (this is literally the only thing that he still has in common with Gavin), Riley, who provides a safe haven for Hayden and Mal when they discover Mal is pregnant, but she can't tell her parents. Riley does convince them to go back, and encourages Hayden to stand up to Mal's strict parents...but they never get the chance, as Mal is killed in a freak car accident as they go back. Riley attempts to comfort Hayden but is unsuccessful and can only watch helplessly as Hayden breaks down in front of him.

And cue Mental Hospital! Enter Isabelle, eighteen years old with an unknown past. We don't know what she's in for. For all you know, she could be an imaginary friend, Hayden's way of clinging to someone who he knew cared for him. Who knows? (I know whether she's real or not...but I won't tell!) Isabelle, the physical embodiment of Hayden's feelings concerning Mal's death, serves as a foil character to upbeat, innocent Mal. (Fun fact: In the original treatment, Isabelle was a hooker...I just thought someone might find that interesting.)

So this past Sunday I had the first opportunity to start shooting, with the lovely Liz V. (my roomie!) and epic Alex D. (co-star of Possession), and a crew of three, Nicole A. (makeup/lighting/camera), Isaac R. (assistant directing/lighting/continuity) and Matthew A. (assistant directing/production stills). This would be my first time truly out on my own, unless you count the f#$%-ed up footage I attempted to shoot for the alternate ending to Possession (long story short: you cannot shoot the ending of a love story in twenty minutes. Can't be done).

From the start I was nervous, and having a deciding committee (a.k.a., my friends) commenting on everything I did was not helping. Makeup alone took an hour, as Liz had to go from an innocuous-looking pretty girl to a crazed ghostly-looking creeper, and Alex had to turn into a love-starved depression victim...and let me tell you, it was worth it to see it on camera. Major props to Nicole, who transformed Liz on her own, and Alex, who patiently endured me basically dumping the entire contents of my makeup bag on him and then going, "Oops, we have to start over, this bruise is too yellow."

And, hey, if anyone wants to give me props for the (realistic-looking, I thought) scars...well...I wouldn't complain.

The shoot flew by after the makeup. It was Liz's first time on a set but you'd never have known that, from the way she held her own against almost-pro-he's-just-that-damn-good Alex (I have EVERY REASON to think that this kid is a f#$%ing good actor, pardon my French). With minimal coaching, Liz pulled off her scenes and made me wonder, even just looking through the lens, if she was real of if we all just imagined her because we couldn't stand to see Alex lying there alone. As ethereal Isabelle, Liz's job was to be both concerned and concerning--and by the powers that be, SHE DID IT.

Alex kicked ass. There's really no other way to put it. Again, it took minimal coaching on my part, just the occasional stage direction or "I can't hear you over the vent, say that line louder." Between takes we would laugh like mentally challenged hyenas (this mainly due to Alex and Liz's shenanigans...more on that later), but once the camera was on--BAM. You'd never know that the spaced-out given-up-on-life doormat was shouting and laughing and rolling on the ground just moments before. Don't ask me how he did this. God knows if I'm going to act (which I rarely do, because I'm rather crappy at it), if nothing else I need to pull myself together beforehand or I'm going to overact like crazy.

We had an amazing moment on set when everything just fell into place--I think this was when Alex did a scene involving a prop that we had originally intended to be just that--a prop. A set piece. Just a little thing to keep the film more grounded, since it's going to be very "out of order" and experimental. Well, what Alex did with this prop made it into a much bigger part of the movie. And it was pretty much HIS IDEA. In the end I called out unneeded stage directions while he completely turned into this character, Hayden, and later on when I watched the footage I literally started tearing up. When you see this, you will too.

As for my crew--well, I've already given props to Nicole's BAMF makeup. Also her suggestion to follow Liz down the stairs for her big entrance--I wouldn't have thought of that. AND her lifesaving use of the sun lamp. Okay, Nicole deserves a shit-ton of credits for this movie, because really, she made the set roll a lot smoother than it would've if it had just been me, Isaac, and Matthew running the show.

Isaac, 1st assistant director/continuity, literally kept me sane. Not joking. Whenever my actors' hijinks (namely their fake "romantic scenes" and turning EVERYTHING into innuendo) got on my nerves, he was there to calm me down. Whenever I was at a loss for what to do with the camera, he was there with a suggestion. Whenever I got fed up with my 2nd assistant director, Isaac kept me from losing my temper. If I needed to ask for advice on the character makeup, on a camera angle, on the actors' performance, or on the lighting, I had to look over my shoulder and BAM--there's Isaac, ready to give me an opinion without being overbearing. THANK GOD HE WAS THERE.

Also--continuity? KIND OF A BIG DEAL. Without Isaac we would've had awkward lighting changes from shot to shot, gotten lines mixed up, and had major flubs in the editing room. Not to worry, though--when someone is standing right over your shoulder the entire time, chances are they're not going to miss anything. No problems here!

As to my 2nd AD, Matthew--with sweet Isaac and nervous Me running things, we probably wouldn't have gotten anything done. We needed aggressive, assertive Matthew there to get things off the ground. With a total film buff on your side, you get a new perspective on things--he always had suggestions and references to how something should look on camera ("Make him look like Christian Bale." "I saw this lighting trick in a film, we should try it.") When you have someone around who has an opinion and is not afraid to use it, you definitely save a lot of time. We needed a pusher there, and we had one.

In addition, Matthew took a TON of production stills, and for that I am truly grateful seeing as my last film (the famous POSSESSION), had practically NO usable stills. Matthew had a great camera and he USED IT, and as a result when I get around to making a public internet page for this thing I'll have pictures to say, "See how awesomesauce this movie is? Don't you want to see it now?" Having stills is so much more than advertising, though--it's a way to look back, kind of a scrapbook for your film. It's something to show, Hey, I DID THIS.

...And it's 11:55 and I need to post this before the internet shuts off and I need to sleep before I start making less sense than I am right now.

STOLEN DIALOGUE

Person one: One time I woke up with 17 kidneys!

Person two: Harry, I know for a FACT that didn't happen!

"Don't chastise my straitjacket!"

Person one: I've lost my mind!

Person two: Sweetie, you never had it.

Person one: Don't remind me! It was a pleasant illusion!

Person one: He's being such an ass hat!

Person two: I don't know, my ass doesn't wear a hat...

Person one: What are you going to do when you have to make movies in Hollywood?

Person two: I'm never going to go to Hollywood. Hollywood can screw itself.

Person one: Really? I don't think that'll happen...but I don't know, I'd love to see an entire city screw itself.

Person one: Never mess with an intuitive girl, love...she'll kick your ass every time.

Person two: Since when are you intuitive? That would imply some kind of foresight and you had no idea I was interested in you until I asked, and even then...

Person one: Okay. I walked into that one.

[about Student Senate]

Some people need to talk more...and some people we need to put a muzzle on."

Save the Fire Drills for Prom Night

I honestly don't have a point for this post. I just need to blog for the sake of blogging...and because a certain follower reminded me that I haven't blogged for ten freakin' days. Shame on me. I did promise to update more often. So instead of trying to give my usual pep talk/advisory post, I'll simply tell you what's been going down the past 10 days.

Starting off with the FUTURE OF CINEMA FILM FESTIVAL...dude, that was just made of epic win...I can't even begin to describe all the awesomeness that happened there. All I have to say is...
1. Cory McAbee!
2. STINGRAY SAM (in accordance with #1)
3. BEN BUSCH!!!!!!!!!!!
4. Daniel Pearl
5. Student films!
6. Student documentaries!
7. Sceenplay readings!
8. Autographs!
9. Free popcorn!
10. Excuse to skip world history class!

And there's more...

My friend from my old high school came up to show her film and I got to catch up with her...THAT was epic...and I got to see my friend Ned's film and he dedicated it to the "2009 MPAs"...three of which were at said screening to witness this...also, we got to hear "Stingray Sam" playing his uklele...it was awesome with added awesomeness...all around, this weekend was amazing.

The great thing about FoC is that you can see just how many other amazing teen filmmakers there are in this world. I saw an animated short from Germany. I saw two French narrative shorts. I saw documentaries made by kids around my age that, in my opinion, were better than anything on the Discovery Channel. These kids aren't IAA students. Most of them hadn't had much formal training in film. But they were good enough to submit to this festival, they were good enough to get in, and a few lucky ones were good enough to win.



The FoC festival was only the tip of the iceberg. For anyone who has never been to Interlochen in May, I will tell you, straight out: It. Is. INSANE!

MORP! Dude, if there's an example of insanity, MORP is most definitely it. Normal proms involve corsages and contraband spiked punch. Our prom, or MORP, involved cross dressing, balloon arches, 80s music, bowling, blacklight, and the Cheshire Cat.

MORP is not just a prom. It is a full-out party. Ordinary proms are couples-only dances, and if you don't go with a date--watch out! With an ordinary prom, the poor freshmen and sophomores plan it, raise the money for it, execute it--and then aren't allowed to attend. But Interlochen says, "Screw that!" and pulls together a MORP committee made up of ALL grades, gets the entire student body in on voting for a theme, and allows freshmen and sophomores to come to the dinner, the dance, and the afterparty.

Here's the MORP schedule:

5:00 - Reception on campus.
6:00 - Leave for fancy ballroom in Traverse City.
6:30 - Dinner, complete with vegetarian or vegan options...and for dessert, cookies that say, "Eat me!"
7:30 - Start dancin', fools! :)
Anytime after 9:30-10 - Leave for the afterparty.
10-2 - Bowling party in Traverse City, complete with blacklight, all you can eat pizza, music, friends, and of course the immense excitement of watching chaperones (aka teachers) bowling! :)

And of course in there, we had soooo many photo ops. I even brought my video camera. Now, as we all know, MORP is a senior sappiness hotbed. All of this, "Oh, my God, you're leaving next year!" from the juniors, and "Oh, my God, this is my last big high school party!" from the seniors. So I took advantage of the emotions running high on this particular night and got pictures of almost EVERY SINGLE ONE of my senior/postgrad friends. I took pictures of just about every friend who attended, actually. Juniors, seniors, freshmen, sophomores, postgrads...EVERYONE.

And then, the next day, I posted every single picture, tagged every friend, wrote silly things under each picture. (In fact I honestly skipped out on some homework doing this...oops.) And then I compared notes with all of my friends from other schools about proms, and who had the best time, and who wore what, and what drama went down and what kind of epic funnies went down.

And then I went to sleep for the first time in a week.

Speaking of sleep, or lack thereof, has anyone else noticed this who-can-come-off-worst competition among art school students? I'm just curious. Remember that blog post I wrote earlier about complaining? It seems there's a method to that madness. The stuff we all complain about (yes, I'm guilty of this too) seems pretty minor when you think of how incredible this school is. I've said that before and I will most definitely say it again.

And at first I didn't understand this. But now, after a summer and a school year at an arts school, I understand the insanity.

You see, we aren't complaining because we actually have things to complain about. We are complaining because we are tortured artists and, at all costs, we absolutely have to fit that profile.

We are art students! We MUST suffer for our art! We must endure such horrors as walking to class in the rain, skipping showers because our suitemates refuse to let us into the bathroom, eating food that tastes like chalk mixed with arsenic, smelling awful because we have no time to do laundry, wasting time on reports about Emily Dickinson when we SHOULD be practicing our craft. We can't have things TOO easy. I mean, come on...this school is so amazing; how can we possibly fit into the "suffering artists" stereotypes unless we make that happen?

Yes, I'm totally poking fun here, and yes, I TOTALLY do this too. To my friends: Does this sound familiar?

"I swear, I must've gotten three hours of sleep last night."

"I'm starving! I skipped lunch to work on McCall's essay and--oh damn it, it's meat loaf night!"

"Yes, I know my socks are mismatched. I overslept and in the confusion I put on mismatching socks. Why'd I oversleep? Oh, that's just because I was up so late writing that script."

"My feet are soaked. I can't afford rain boots. I drained my account on props for my thesis."

"I haven't showered for two days! I keep getting locked out of the bathroom!"

Ah, the life of a teenage filmmaker. Isn't it glamorous? ;) I know, I know. "Shut up and move on." Okay, I will. To something I'm sure we can all relate to...

FIRE DRILLS!

Seriously, what in this school is more annoying than a late-night fire drill? You all know what I mean. You change into your pajamas after a long day. Snuggle up in bed with your laptop or maybe a good book. Or maybe you call your friends from home, or your parents. You're all nestled into bed, cozy and sleepy and happy and so ready to just chill out. And then...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Now this is bad enough to begin with. But if you make the mistakes that I made last night, fire drills are just so much worse

Mistake #1: Wearing fleece shorts that just BARELY reached my thighs to bed. God forbid we ever have a fire drill when I'm wearing PANTS!

Seriously, this ALWAYS happens. Either I'm in shorts, I'm in a dress, or--one God-awful occasion that I hope to never repeat--I'm in a nightgown. That was just so horrifically FAIL that I can't even begin to describe it. Not only was I freezing, but I spent most of the drill desperately attempting to cover up some--ahem--distinctly female body parts that this low-cut garmet did NOT do its theoretical job of hiding. While I'm guessing that all three (or four; I can't tell about one of you yet) of the straight guys in my dorm enjoyed this, I can tell you that I certainly did not.

You may be scratching your head right now, and giving me that what are you, insane? look, or asking, "Why the hell don't you wear more clothes to bed, then?" Well, I'll tell you why. For those of you who don't live in DeRoy, I am here to say that it is not as glamorous as you think, and here is why: It is ONE MILLION DEGREES in our rooms. And we open windows. And we have fans. And we try (and usually fail) to work the climate control. But it's still very hard to sleep in million-degree rooms, unless you are cold-blooded and depend on outer sources for heat. And so I sleep with one blanket and, even in the dead of February, I sleep in shorts and t-shirts. Because I'd rather not die of heatstroke in the middle of the night, thankyouverymuch.

Mistake #2: Not wearing proper shoes. I was already freezing, thanks to my shorts (or lack thereof) because it's just not as warm outside at night as it is in the DeRoy rooms. And so thanks to my bare legs, I was cold. And as if that wasn't bad enough, I had to wear flipflops because I didn't have time to find and put on proper shoes.

When one of my friends realized that I was shivering, he did what I'm sure any of you would have done: He gave me a very encouraging smile, tore off a shred of a paper napkin, and said, "Here's a strip of napkin to keep you warm!" Now, this may sound mean to some of you, but trust me, it was the best possible thing he could've done. I cracked up and totally forgot that I was freezing because I was so busy laughing at him.


Okay, so after the fire drill we all go back to our rooms and chill, right? Oh, hell no. That would be too easy.

Instead, Otha brings us all into the boys' lobby and proceeds to inform us that should some selfish person prop the side door again, we will have no visitors or lobby privileges in DeRoy for the rest of the year.

I just love this. Okay, I will say here and now, I have never propped the side door. And I will tell you why: It's simply not worth it to me. I'll admit that there are times when I've wished that door was open, so I wouldn't have to walk an extra minute in the rain or snow to get into the nice warm (too warm) building. But to me, it's just not worth it to get dormed or get your whole building in trouble. An extra 45 seconds outdoors vs. having everyone in your dorm pissed at you? Hmm. Do the math.

However, I think the reaction to the door-propping is utterly ridiculous.

Let me reiterate here that I don't bother with that door except to occasionally exit from it. But to make such a stink about propping that door? Come on, hall people. Is it really such a big deal that you have to threaten to close DeRoy because someone props it?

I understand that people can and probably have used that door for not-so-great purposes. But really, think about it: The door is clearly visible from MB. It exits onto a public street. It's not easy to sneak people up through that staircase because just about any fool can walk by and see exactly what you're doing. Now, what I really don't understand, especially with that in mind, is this: Why don't they just unlock that door and let us swipe in and out of it and put an end to all this door-propping drama?

Seriously. Whether you approve or not, people are GOING to enter through that door. And I'm going to hedge a bet here and say that even if visitors are banned from DeRoy, people will just sneak visitors to their rooms...probably using that door. Seriously, we're creative, we will find a way. Impossible as it seems, people probably HAVE used that door to sneak visitors inside. This would happen whether the door was functioning or not.

Pick your battles, hall counselors. And when you get annoyed, please don't hold fire drills to punish us.


STOLEN DIALOGUE:

"I have to write an essay on Crime and Punishment...which is in itself a crime and a punishment."

"The only reason I signed up for Welcome Wagon was to get the orange t-shirt."

[talking about roommaate applications]
Person one: I should put "fan fiction" as one of my interests.
Person two: I would disown you.

[as a scooter is falling off a table]
"Timber!"

"You see, this is why I love the bastard..."

Person one: Please stop overthinking.
Person two: I can't help it, it's in my DNA!
Person one: Well, get rid of that DNA!

"Oh, hell. I forgot about the ducklings."

Person one: Ugh, three papers by Saturday and two quizzes this week? You know, I think I'm just going to go kill myself.
Person two: Have fun and be careful.