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."

MARK YOUR CALENDARS

...because this day will go down in history.

I'm exaggerating a bit, I suppose, but that's how I feel right now.

Why?

BECAUSE AS OF RIGHT NOW, He's A Rockstar IS OFFICIALLY ONLINE.

It is on the internet.

It is on YouTube.

ANYONE IN THE WORLD CAN WATCH THIS VIDEO.

Should, I don't know, Gus Van Sant, let's say, be wandering around the internet at 2 AM and YouTube-search "Interlochen," HE could see this video.

(I know that's unlikely. But still.)

You don't even know how long it took me to get this damn thing uploaded. I mean I tried about a dozen times, over the last year, in varying stages of internet connection, to get this movie online. And guess what? Tonight it FINALLY happened.

I am happy.

Oh, but that's not all! Guess what else? I have a Flickr now, too! And I can post my photography there (I have only recently discovered how ridiculously, it-should-be-illegal-kind-of fun to take pictures. Particularly pretty ones), and I can post videoclips there...and I can just throw myself out on the internet and be like, "HEY! FILMMAKER OVER HERE!"

So, yes, tonight I am very happy.

Very.

Very.

VERY.

Happy. :)


Links:
HE'S A ROCKSTAR
My Flickr photostream

Enjoy, fellow Hipster Art Geeks ;)

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!"

That's your liberal arts education right there, baby!

OH MY GOD WHAT A RUSH...it has been FOREVER, I know, but holy crud muffins, this place...I thought Interlochen kept you busy...but man oh man, McDaniel knows how to eat up every bit of free time a person has, with social events as well as homework. I swear, in the last few days, I have had one hell of a roller coaster ride. I have gone from laughing like an idiot to crying hysterically in under an hour. I have seen kids my age doing things that a good percentage of adults don't know how to do. I saw a show called CHOICES that absolutely made my life. (I will throw this out there, for consideration: Two guys acting out Black Swan, leotards and all, with a cameo by another male student as "Kevin Bacon from Footloose, your RA." Not kidding.) I love this place more with every minute I spend here. With each day, I am more convinced that McDaniel is the right place for me.

My cinema teacher, Professor Slade, is quickly rivaling Danny Daneau for the position of "Best Teacher Ever." No joke. This is a man who made it clear from the start what his expectations of us were and what we could expect of him--I don't know many high-school teachers who will do that on the first day. Heck, neither of my other teachers at this college did that! He treats us like adults who want to learn, not kids who are here because we have to be. (The fact that he is my professor for my favorite subject may slightly influence this opinion, to be fair. But still.) Also. The title of this blog post is a direct quote from him. So that's cool too, right? ;)

TV Production is taught like we're actually a big-name TV studio--deadlines and all. We MUST put out a news broadcast EVERY week, no exceptions--which means that every student has to bring in a news story every week. Don't know yet what my script will be this week (I kind-of-sort-of-might-have stood up the person I was supposed to interview...not good. Long story short: don't get sick and pass out in your dorm room after class when you have to interview someone for class), but I know that I have absolutely no fears whatsoever about this class. I'm comfortable here, and not just because I've worked the crew-position rotations before. I love working with Slade--and I know I said that about my previous film teachers, some of whom turned out to be not-so-great, but I feel like this is going more like a Danny Daneau class than an Anthony Penta class. (Sorry, Anthony.)

Now, obviously, college kids are subject to all kinds of new experiences, some of which, like living in a dorm room, I thought I'd already experienced via Interlochen. WRONG. College, I quickly found out, is NOTHING like Interlochen. What's the difference, some of you ask? (Oh, you wonderful, naïve people...) Well...

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN COLLEGE AND INTERLOCHEN 101

IF A GUY COMES OUT OF YOUR ROOM...

At Interlochen: The statistical probability is that he is gay, and has just finished giving you a makeover or choosing your clothes for an event.

At college: The statistical probability is that you just had sex.

How I found this out: The hard way, pun not intended...one night, I decided to exercise the newfound freedom of having friends over whenever the hell I wanted, regardless of gender, and brought a guy friend to my room to hang out with me and my roommate. We chilled, we talked. I showed him He's A Rockstar and had a nice little read-along session of Cyrano de Bergerac. Then when he left, GUESS WHAT? A bunch of girls in the hall were looking at us weird, with that kind of expression that just screams Oh my God they just had sex! I had a what-the-hell moment, and then--embarrassment time!--he had to explain it to me!

IF YOU MISS A CLASS...

At Interlochen: All hell breaks loose. Well, not really, but that's what it feels like. You get detention, your teacher lectures you, and you get that lovely phone call with your worried parents, who are afraid that skipping one class will lead you down a path of death, destruction, and low grades.

At college: Quite simply, no one gives a damn. If you miss a class, it's your fault. No one comes after you, no one gives you detention, no one tells your parents. The teacher doesn't talk to you, unless you initiate the talking ("Hey, Professor, what the hell did I miss?"). It really is your responsibility to be in-class on time and to do all your work on time, or you don't get the grade. End of discussion.

How I found this out: Simple--my professors told us. Up-front. "Hey, kids, guess what--this is YOUR problem now. Get up, get here, or get an F. Easy choice."

IF YOU FORGET YOUR HOMEWORK...

At Interlochen: Your teacher says, "Oh, just run back to you room and get it."

At college: Your teacher says, "Sorry, you don't get a grade for this assignment."

How I found this out: Again, the teachers just told us up-front...but I've heard horror stories about teachers who don't, and are then surprised when kids drop their class as soon as humanly possible.

IF YOU STAY UP PAST ELEVEN-THIRTY...

At Interlochen: You get a lights-out infraction and are dormed the following day.

At college: You wake up tired the next morning, or you sleep through your class...or you get lucky and get a schedule where your first class is at three in the afternoon.

How I found this out: When I almost fell asleep in Spanish after staying up until one AM the night before my eight AM class. Trust me, the last thing you want to be at college is a night owl.

IF YOU SMOKE...

At Interlochen: You are in BIG TROUBLE if you get caught. You just never see anyone with a cigarette, even if they are of age. Why? Because it's a suspendable, and in some cases expellable, offense to smoke on the campus.

At college: Go ahead, just do it outside so that you don't set off the smoke alarms or, even worse, set the building on fire.

How I found this out: Hoo, boy. Was I ever in for a surprise when I walked across Red Square my first day of classes. I hadn't expected to see smoking--really, I hadn't even thought of it--but I must say, it wasn't exactly pleasant to walk through a cloud of smoke to get to class.

IF YOU DON'T WEAR THE UNIFORM...

At Interlochen: You will be subjected to lectures from your teachers, unexcused tardies, or dirty looks from classmates who have been subjected to the above while you have not. Moreover, if you wear a skirt that does not come to your knees, your Dean of Students will be all over you--even while the other girls show off their thongs in shorter-than-a-t-shirt skirts.

At college: Uniform? What uniform? The only time clothing is mentioned is when fashion-savvy students compliment one another's outfits.

How I found this out: I walked onto campus and was not assaulted by the Cult of Blue Polos.

IF YOU'RE A HIPSTER...

At Interlochen: EVERYONE is a hipster, or some facsimile, so good luck standing out. It's not enough to just be a hipster. You have to be truly unique. (Like the Dead Poets...le wink...)

At college: Mention Dakota Skye, and people will think you're talking about your hometown. Say your favorite band is "The Almost," and people will reply, "Almost what?" Here, if you want to stand out, it's not exactly easier--consider the fact that there are over 15oo kids here, for starters--but it's not like Interlochen, where everyone is out of the mainstream.

How I found this out: Walk into class wearing a pencil skirt, white blouse, pearls, and cloche hat, and you will get weird looks. It's a fact. (No, I totally didn't do this the first day of classes, what are you talking about?!)

IF YOU DRINK...

At Interlochen: You will get suspended. And possibly expelled. So if you do it, you'd bloody well better hide that habit as best as you can, unless you'd like a very unpleasant conversation with J-Wes.

At college: You're normal. Well, somewhat normal, anyway. It's not as bad as everyone makes it out to be--people are sober in class, for the first week at least--but the college does acknowledge that it happens and makes it very clear that while what you do off-campus is your decision, but if a dorm says substance-free it should stay substance-free.

How I found this out: During Orientation Week, we had an event called "Happy Hour with Mike Green," where an ex-alcoholic came and talked to us about safe drinking. Confused? So was I...for the first few minutes, anyway. And then I laughed my ass off. This guy is amazing. Seriously--it was not your average safe-drinking lecture.

On the whole, yes, it's true that college is considerably freer than Interlochen. Here we are truly given the opportunity to be ourselves. Here, we are not forced into any role, artistic or otherwise. Here, you decide who you will be--and how to live with the consequences of your decisions. I pray that Interlochen has given me the decision-making skills to thrive in a place like this, where we are held accountable from day one. I don't know yet. Only time will tell.

It's going to be an exciting four years...

OH OH OH. Before I sign off, I have to announce something very important: He's A Rockstar has been accepted to the Great Lakes International Film Festival!!!!!!!!!! (I'd keep going with the exclamation points, but it's just not that professional.) This is my first-ever film festival acceptance, and I cannot tell you how excited I am to FINALLY get my film out there for all the non-Interlochenites to see! :D

So, you really should see this film festival, if at all possible--it's in Erie, PA, September 23-24. Now, here's the cool thing about it: You don't actually have to go to the film festival in-person to see the films. GLIFF offers a special online program where you can see the films WITHOUT GOING TO THE FESTIVAL, from September 22 to October 1! HOW COOL IS THAT?

Here's the link to the He's A Rockstar Facebook page, which will tell you all you need to know, including a link to the GLIFF official site, with more info on the streaming-online thing:

He's A Rockstar

Please for the love of all that's good and holy, check it out..."like" it...log onto GLIFF on September 22 and watch it! YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED!

And now that my shameless self-advertising is over, may I present the...

~STOLEN DIALOGUE~

"Not only am I homicidal, I'm...what's another 'idal?'...I'm...AMERICAN IDOL!"

Person one: I stand by what I said earlier in the year: as his roommate, how did you not just laugh your ass off all the time?

Person two: Well...once it fell off, there wasn't much I could do about it.

Person one: Where the hell did this rubber duck come from? Seriously, I don't remember where I got this!

Person two: Hmm...Rubber Duck Fairy?

"That's one place where you have to do a little cost-benefit analysis with the old dead limb metaphor...I swear to God I didn't realize how weird that sentence was until AFTER I said it..."

"If you made Kim Kardashian memorize the ingredients of peanut butter, it would make up about half of what she knows now."

Person one (seeing a group of unsavory-looking men): Oh yeah, these are the guys I want to party with tonight!

Person two: You probably will...

Person one: I got us the Motor Coach package! I don't know what that is, but...

Person two: What? You got us the Horticulture Package?

"I have no idea what this conversation is about...but I know it's inappropriate."

Person one: Just for the record, I've been running back and forth getting French toast this whole time.

Person two: So how you've managed to interrupt the conversation twelve times is a feat!

"You could just write an essay about that, with the title, 'Why I Can't Put My Parents' Conversation About Douching On My Blog.'"

"It's not like I'll be taking attendance, like, 'Damn you, you have no ice cream!'"

"Everyone should know how to make a risotto? Bite me!"

"My daughter asked me if childbirth hurt, and I had to try really hard--I just barely kept myself from saying, 'Like a motherf**ker.'"

Person one: They asked me what color I wanted my wedding shoes to be, and I said white. And then they asked, "Well, do you want bone, cream, or eggshell?" And to me, those all come under the heading of "white."

Person two: Bone? Is that even a color?

Person two: Well, according to the shoe salespeople, it is.

"If I'm lying on a table with my feet in the air and something between my legs, that to me just says 'Gynecological exam'--everyone's favorite day of the year, right?"

"The health center will diagnose you pregnant. Even you, Sean."

"Walking? Whose freakin' brilliant idea was that?"

"I started having over-the-internet ice cream lust."

"Today we'll go over the syllabus and talk about media literacy...but first, I will perform the ceremonial butchering of everybody's names..."

"You know what sitting in the front says to me? It says, 'I am engaged! I am willing to learn from this crazy bastard!'"

I need a good rant

I realize that it has been a long time since I blogged. However, I actually do have an excuse for that: I have had no computer for the past week and no time to write for the last ten days. Between college prep and trying to get my "crackbook pro" fixed (apparently, it takes longer than overnight to replace a badly-cracked Macbook Pro screen...WHO THE HELL KNEW?), I haven't had the means to blog. Sorry about that, everyone. But now that I do, I'll provide you with another rant from your friendly neighborhood hipster about...what else?...hipsterism.

Hardly a week has gone by this summer without my dad making a reference, veiled or unveiled, to the hipster qualities that I allegedly possess. And I'm not going to lie--it's annoying. Well, semi-annoying, because he's my dad and I love him and, believe me, on the long list of Crap That Beatnik Belle Has Put Up With Throughout High School, getting called "hipster" by my well-meaning father is waaaay down there along with "listening to Green Day" and "getting teased by editing teacher." But that's not the point. Anyway, I've heard "You're a hipster!" minimum once a week since March, with varying degrees of irritation on my part following this repeated declaration. But the irritation wasn't at my dad. Oh, no. It was at the idiots who have given any poor shmuck who calls himself or herself "hipster" a bad name.

I posted a joke about a hipster in a music store on my blog awhile back and received this lovely tidbit in response:

-THE ACTUAL HIPSTER JOKE-

(A customer walks over to the first aisle of a CD store and apathetically glances at some of the CDs while inwardly lamenting the downward spiral of popular culture while ironically liking Beyonce. It takes him three minutes before he gets bored. He then walks up to the counter.)

Customer: You're cute, wanna come to a secret Wavves show tonight and do some blow with Best Coast?

Salesperson: Whowhat?

Customer: Lamestreamer.

He lights a Native Spirit cigarette even though the sign says "No smoking" but he wants to stick it to the man. He contemplates putting the cigarette out on the cover of a Justin Bieber CD but decides that cigarettes are too expensive despite his neverending trust fund. He exits the store and jumps on his fixie, muttering "I miss you James Murphy bro" while nearly being hit by a Hummer blasting Eminem.

Wait, where's the punch line? IRONY DOESN'T HAVE PUNCH LINES BITCH.

Ooh, fun. Let's play a game called "Spot the Stereotype," shall we?

First of all, this joke is not actually making fun of hipsters. It is making fun of pretentious people who think they are better than everyone else because they have semi-decent taste in music (and even that is debatable). It is making fun of the idiots who actually think that those shutter shades are attractive. (Little hint, guys: 1) they are not attractive in the least, and 2) every emo and their brother owns them, which makes them--LE GASP!--mainstream, does it not?) It is making fun of people who conform to the "indie" standard and insist they are the counterculture. No. No, they are not.

So what is a hipster these days, exactly? Well, according to this joke, it is a rich, obnoxious kid with nothing better to do than make fun of pop culture and blow off anyone who he considers to be "mainstream." It is someone who pretends to rebel just for the sake of rebelling, because suddenly it's "cool" to, as the joke bluntly says, "stick it to the man."

Also, according to this joke, a true hipster ONLY likes things that no one else has heard of, and if he ever admits to liking something that someone else has heard of, it is "ironic." Tell me, how does one "ironically" like Beyonce Knowles? "Oh, man, it's so ironic that I like Beyonce, considering that I'm a straight teenage guy!" How in the flying hell is that remotely ironic? And that's coming from a person who has misused the word "ironic" AT LEAST three times since starting this blog. You know if I spot it, it HAS to be blatant misuse--I wouldn't recognize it otherwise.

So with all that in mind, hipsters are rich, rude, careless, selfish, and--let's just say what everyone is thinking, shall we?--pathetic.

No. Not cool. I refuse to accept that definition.

Sorry for yet another mini-history lesson, guys, but here it is: Back in the 1950s, when truly brilliant writers and musicians stood up and said, "We don't have to do things your way," they were not doing it because it was "cool." They were not rebelling for the sake of rebelling. They were rebelling because it meant something to them. They were doing what they loved because they wanted to, not because it was suddenly "the thing" to be a poet or a musician or a starving artist. Back then, a "starving artist" was not a good thing to be. Artists--particularly women artists--were ridiculed, considered neurotic and crazy and all kinds of other "bad" things.

Back then, you see, there was no "hipster code." You could not tell by the presence of skinny jeans and plaid flannel shirts whether or not one was a member of the counterculture. You could tell by what they did, instead of what they wore. You could hear it in the way they spoke, in the way they wrote. They were the "mad ones" that Jack Kerouac wrote about in On the Road. They did not obsess over who liked what. They did not keep careful tabs on what was "hot" and then make sure that neither they nor anyone they spent time with liked any of it. They were natural misfits, people whose tastes simply ran to things that the majority did not appreciate.

These days, "hipster" comes with a code of conduct. It's not enough to simply have different tastes; you have to have a "look" to be a hipster: tight faded jeans, plaid button-down shirts, long earth-colored skirts, hideous-print scarves, battered sneakers or earth-tone sandals, jewelry made from just about anything that one wouldn't generally use to make jewelry (paper clips, bolts, shells, safety pins, etc), and of course those damn glasses that are so huge and ridiculous they'd make Buddy Holly cringe.

And as if the uniform isn't enough, there has to be a uniform attitude as well, which can only be described as, I am so much better than you because I like things you've never heard of. And if, God forbid, someone happens to like the same thing as a modern "hipster," it is immediately deemed mainstream or sold-out and the "hipster" cannot like it anymore. Period. Regardless of how good it is.

And why? I understand wanting to be unique. Really. I do. I have this thing about obtaining things that no one else will have (and, quite honestly, most of the time no one else would want them anyway). This blog, you understand, is written by a girl who owns rain boots designed to look like Converse hi-tops and shops at the same stores as her mother. I know that most of the mainstream, top-40 music quite frankly sucks, and I frequently raid my dad's music collection or scour YouTube for independent garage bands. And what kind of filmmaker would I be if I didn't spend a fair chunk of my time watching, reviewing, and making independent films?

But here's the catch: If someone, heaven forbid, actually likes the same things that I do, I don't immediately disown the things I like. If there is a rare book that I read, or a rare film that I love, and I meet someone who loves it as much as I do, I welcome that person with open arms. I frequently IM and email my friends, telling them that they have to read this book/hear this band/see this movie/go to this website. I don't take it as a personal insult if someone happens to have heard of some obscure blog that I follow religiously, or if someone excitedly begins to tell me about this "new" band they heard last night that I've been listening to for years.

So, with all that in mind, will my hipster card be revoked? I don't think it should be. I think that what the beatniks of the 1950s wanted above all else was to be comfortable with themselves--not to shout in the faces of everyone who wasn't as "mature" or "independent" as they were. In my opinion, a true nonconformist--whether you want to call it a beatnik, hippie, hipster, or just plain weirdo--loves what they love and doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

Hipsters were not meant to be snobs, everyone. Let's stop treating them like they are, and maybe--just maybe--they won't feel the need to act like that.

So, one of my best friends in the world has begun a new thing called the Cyrano Project. And you should check it out, because it is amazing. I'd do something irrational, like refuse to blog again until at least five people check it out--but I won't be that mean. Instead, I'll provide you with the link (see above) so you really have no excuse to NOT check it out. Trust me. No hopeless romantic should go without at least checking this amazing blog out. (And you really should hire her. Because if I had someone to write love letters to, I would.)

And now, lovelies, I'm going to be extremely cheesy and promote my own movie, called He's A Rockstar, and beg you all to check out the Facebook page. YouTube has decided that it hates me, so unfortunately a trailer/reel is out of the question at the moment...but I'll get it to upload. Soon. I promise.

He's A Rockstar website

STOLEN DIALOGUE

Person one: 'Feeling up your moles?' That's kind of creepy...

Person two: I know, right?

Person one: A keysmash is worth a thousand words.

Person two: Indeed!

Person one: We'll come in fall and play hide-and-seek with mooning scarecrows. Sound good?

Person two: That is one of the most wonderfully-phrased propositions I've ever heard. I accept.

"You can take the misfits out of Interlochen, but you can't take Interlochen out of the misfits."

Person one: My flight was delayed.

Person two: Shit.

Person one: My sediments exactly.

Person two: Sediments? Please don't leave any 'sediments' on the ground.

"He's a handy-looking guy, isn't he? This guy without a nose..."

"I'm not flying that week. That week is notoriously notorious for being...notorious. It's not as notorious as whatever's on this butter dish, but it's pretty damn close."

"Just give the bastard nine bucks, see what happens."

"I suggested to your dad that we rent a Jeep, and he goes, 'What? A JEEP?!' like he's never heard of one before!"

"I've only gotten forty-nine miles to the gallon this trip...because I've been driving like a lunatic."

"A girl's first cloche is something to be celebrated."

"I'd like to stay in the cabin where we shot my thesis...at least we know there aren't any unidentifiable ecosystems in there."

"I can tell I'm in a bad neighborhood...I just passed a Church of Christ. I better get out of here."