End-of-year reflection (MY way)

It's almost New Year's Eve. I could be all whiny, and quiet, and reflective. Or...I could do this...

What I wish I'd known my first semester of college

All-nighters = BAD IDEA. I can't stress this enough. If you have a test in the morning, for God's sake go to sleep. You won't do any better on the test, I guarantee it. You'll be a groggy idiot who can't remember the answers. The only situation in which all-nighters potentially work is when you have a big project due the next day...but ONLY if you don't have tests or important in-class exercises in any of your other classes that day, or you'll be--you got it--a groggy idiot who can't remember the answers. Even if you're a total night owl like me, aim for AT LEAST six hours a night. It's worth it, I swear.

Better solution: Study in advance. What I found worked for me was to start studying about a week before the test (if it's a subject you're having a hard time with, add time; if it's a really easy class or a subject that comes naturally to you, feel free to subtract a day or two). If you've got a big project coming up, start thinking about it the day that it's assigned--don't wait until the last minute; teachers can almost always tell the difference between a paper written at four A.M. the day it's due and a paper that was started three or four weeks ago.

Do not skip meals. I learned this the hard way. What happens when you don't eat (or eat nothing but chocolate or chips) all day, and then suddenly eat a big dinner? DISASTER, that's what. Once I actually threw up because of this...and what's worse than throwing up right after your grade-making (or potentially grade-killing) Spanish test? Getting a crappy grade on that test because you've spent the entire hour trying not to throw up.

Better solution: Everyone says, "Don't keep food in your room," but actually, you should. Here's the trick: Don't keep Pop-Tarts. Keep apples, granola bars, Go-Gurt, those little 100-calorie snack bags...anything that you can grab as you're running out the door. And if you have literally nothing in your room and absolutely MUST go to the dining hall? DO IT. Think of it this way: 5 minutes late to class vs. night/day of feeling nauseous and ten minutes of barfing. Which would you rather do?

Don't ignore the people in your morning classes. I know, I know. It's early. You have morning breath. You're wearing your pants inside-out. You forgot your homework. The last thing you want to do is socialize. Believe me, I've been there. (It's even MORE "fun" when the guy right next to you is ridiculously cute...yeah, that happened to me.) But guess what? If you skimp on the socializing, or even just the small talk, you're going to miss out on some very valuable allies.

Better solution: Talk to the people in your morning classes. Make small talk--a simple "Nice t-shirt" can work wonders. Ask to borrow a pencil, even if you already have one--it can be a good lead-in to another conversation. Don't be nosy, but if you ask about someone's test grade and it turns out they got an A and you got a C, ask if you can study together for the next one. In short: make friends with the people in your class. You'll be thankful for it later, when you're sick and need someone to drop off an assignment or get notes for you.

Never, EVER try to cheat. One of my friends got in massive trouble and almost didn't get to take her final because she was caught cheating. When I say "cheating," I don't mean sneaking looks at your friend's paper. (The teachers will be prepared for that anyway, and either take preventive measures or catch you faster than you can say "failed exam.") I mean hanging around outside the exam room and asking the people who come out what questions were on the test. I mean looking at an upperclassman's test from the semester or year before (in the event that the teacher gives the same test every year). I mean writing answers on a rubber band or on the back of your pencil case...you get the idea.

Better solution: Don't cheat. Just don't do it. I don't cheat, but I know a lot of people who think it's a perfect substitute for studying. Ask to study with a friend. Start studying in advance, so you don't have to cram. And take notes! Take LOTS of notes. Take lots of ORGANIZED notes. Don't just write down a few words and underline them. Date your notes, color-code your notes, and use those little divider things. Study, study, STUDY! And if you don't study (for whatever reason), still don't cheat. It's not worth getting suspended or not getting credit for that class. The way I see it, a 60 on a test is better than a 0 in a class.

DON'T MISS ASSIGNMENTS. Just don't. Even if you're sick. Even if you have to rush off to a study-abroad meeting at the exact same time as your class (yes, this happened to me). Even if you have ten other assignments due that week. Yes, even if it means missing Glee. I had to learn the hard way that missing even one or two assignments--especially if you don't have 100% on everything else in the class--can have serious repercussions on your grade. I got a B+ in a class I should've had an A in because I missed two three-point assignments.

Better solution: Try--yes, really try--to keep up with those little assignments. You know, those things you think you can skip because they won't damage your grade? Here's a tip: THEYCAN HURT YOUR GRADE. Like, a lot. For these, it's totally okay to watch TV or listen to music at the same time (as opposed to studying for a test, where you'd damn well better not be trying to multitask)--whatever it takes to get you to do them. And for those times when you have four massive projects due for each of your classes, and you think it's better to "prioritize" and do a great job on one and not turn in any of the others, do all four of them anyway. It's better to get a mediocre grade on something than not get a grade on it at all.

Partying is soooo not worth it. I love how everyone thinks that once you get to college, you can just get loaded or get stoned without consequence. Here's the truth, darlings: NO. That does not happen. Here's what does happen: 1) You go to a party. 2) It's lame, so you leave. 3) The next morning, there's puke in your shower and used condoms all over the floor in your lounge. Ew. OR: 1) You go to a party, 2) you get wasted, and 3) you fail all your tests/quizzes or forget to turn in your assignments/go to class the next day. Yeah. Either way, you lose.

Better solution: Okay, okay. I know this is incredibly lame, but here's what I do: Join clubs. The big thing for me right now is InterVarsity Christian Fellowship--but please don't think that all we do there is pray and read the Bible; we have pizza parties, game/movie nights, girls' nights out, trick-or-treating, Wednesday Night Worship, all kinds of stuff. And for the record, I have a blast hanging out with my IVCF friends. You don't have to be Christian (though I have met people who think you do), you just have to know that there are better ways to have a good time than getting so plastered you can't remember your own name.

Doing your homework is more important than reading IndieWIRE. (Or checking your Facebook, or going on YouTube, or playing Disney games, or online shopping...whatever your procrastination activity of choice may be.) I learned this the hard way, too. And it's so funny how "just five minutes" can turn into three hours, am I right? And then next thing you know, you have half an hour to complete an important assignment, or study for a test that could make or break your grade.

Better solution: Don't leave work off until you have to cram for a test or do a project an hour before it's due. My latest discovery: If you work for thirty minutes and then break for ten or fifteen, it's much easier because you're not forcing your brain to work like a servant for hours on end. (Just make sure your work time is longer than your break time. And no, that does not mean working for 30 minutes and breaking for 29.)

Your professors are not out to get you. But it's also not going to be like Interlochen (or any high school, really), where you bond with a lot of your teachers right off the bat. There will be teachers you will not love. There will be teachers who you do love, but who aren't that impressed by you. Here's what you do not ever do: Alienate your teachers right off the bat. This includes mouthing off, texting in class, sending e-mails that LOOK like a text message, or (worst of all) doing all of the above.

Better solution: Don't kiss up, but please, for the love of all that's holy, TRY to bond with your teachers. Participate in class. Doing your homework is important, yes, but raise your hand, ask questions, say (intelligent) things about the assignments. And God help you if you sleep through class (yes, that actually happened to me once) or, even worse, fall asleep in class. (Do you even have to ask?)

So, all that practical advice aside, here are my favorite, FUN lessons from my first semester of college:

1. Egg salad wrap after day of not eating + a truckton of Christmas candy + trouble sleeping + Nutcracker score + friend knocking on your door to give you a Christmas present + long, LONG weekend of studying ahead of you = perfect excuse to go and have a two-person dance party with your hallmate at five-thirty AM in the building where half your classes are held.
2. Tony the Tiger can waltz into your cafeteria whenever the hell he feels like it, and this will provide infinite laughs for you and your classmates.
3. It IS possible for you to meet three film majors named Pat, all of them male, all of them two years older than you, within two years. I'm seeing a trend here...
4. Riding a scooter to church is ONLY a good idea if Daylight Savings Time has NOT ended yet.
5. College students will eat pizza anywhere, anytime, regardless of who makes it.
6. Getting tackled by a very small Irish girl with a very loud voice is very, very painful. Particularly when it is on a non-carpeted floor.
7. The fire alarm will go off when it feels like it, regardless of whether or not there is an actual fire.
8. The night that you have a midterm to study for will be the only night that your hallmates feel the need to throw a party right down the hall from your room (a.k.a., your favorite place to study).
9. Michigan is colder than Maryland. It's easy to forget these things when you haven't been in Michigan for three months.
10. Your dorm room will never, ever be the temperature you want it to be. You have two choices: 1) Incubator, 2) Refrigerator. You cannot win.
11. Question: What is the correct time to dance barefoot in the quad? Answer: During a thunderstorm, of course!
12. That random chick with the manatee necklace, who you just so happen to meet when she stands behind you in line at the student store, can and probably will turn out to be one of the best friends you have ever had.
13. McDaniel Campus may or may not have the largest population of Monty Python fans of any campus in the USA. Research is still being conducted.
14. Having family in the state is amazing...especially when that family involves a political writer uncle, an aunt whose personality closely resembles that of Lorelai Gilmore, and a cousin who owns three dogs that are so hyper that you think they may actually be related to Stitch.
15. That guy you loved in high school, who you swore was unique in every possible way? Yeah...he has a sixteen-year-old counterpart: a freshman physics major who will actually sit at the dinner table and complain because he won't have a PhD by the time he's twenty-one years old. No, before you even ask, I am NOT making this up. Such a person does exist. And no matter how smart you think you are, you will rethink your own intelligence after spending five minutes with this kid. And he will make you laugh. Hard.
16. Audition for Vagina Monologues. Just do it. You will feel like an idiot, but I'm telling you, it is sooooo worth it.
17. People do not feel the need to go to bed at normal hours. I don't care how late you're up, there will ALWAYS be someone else who is awake.
18. Harry Potter fans are just as rabid in college as they are in high school.
19. The Philosophy Club is the coolest club on campus, because they wear glow-stick underwear and hold dances outside and sit on rock waterfalls in meetings and randomly text you and make Inception references at just the right moments.
20. Best part of all: All those crazy, weird, stupid-as-hell things you did in high school, that you thought would have to end in college? Wearing cloches and long skirts for the hell of it, and dancing in the pouring rain, and staying up all night just because you want to see the sunrise, and watching RENT instead of going to a party, and reading Cyrano de Bergerac for the 100th time, and cuddling with your guy friends, and acting like a four-year-old with your guy friends, and just generally being crazy with your guy friends, and calling your girl friends at two AM because you think you might be in love with one of your guy friends? Guess what?

You can still do them.

Always.

Always, always, always.

Happy New Year, fellow beatniks.

Vive la résistance, forever and ever.

FML, FML, FML, FM bloody L

So it's just been one of those days, you know? I ate waaaay too much chocolate yesterday. In fact I ate virtually nothing but chocolate yesterday, so last night I did what I thought was the sensible thing and went to the school pub for some food. Well, there wasn't much to choose from--they were about to close and anyway, they have too much fried stuff. So I bought an egg salad wrap and ate that, thinking that my stomach (which had been gurgling all day, thanks to the overconsumption of chocolate) would thank me for it. Long story short: BAD IDEA. I felt sick before I even went to bed, and ever since I woke up this morning (way too early might I add) I've felt sick. FML #1.

I have finals, starting on Monday. FML #2.

I can't study for said finals because I feel like someone injected my stomach with Count Chocula's venom. FML #3.

And then the worst FML of them all...

It's so weird what disappoints me sometimes. I mean, really. Most people, if they found out that a ghost story wasn't real, would be relieved. (And usually, I am.) But the whole thing I wrote yesterday? Forget it. The so-called "legend" was revealed to be a fabricated story over a year ago. I should've researched that, instead of relying on my friend for all the answers. I'm considering taking yesterday's post down. Don't want to, though.

I hate this. I don't hate the guy who did it (no, really, I don't--though I do have a bit of an ax to grind with him, as you can clearly tell). I just hate this whole "documented horror" bullshit and the marketing campaign that inevitably comes with it. (Think Blair Witch Project, for example.) I love the idea of creating your own legend, but is it so much to ask that you bloody well SAY it's fiction at the start, instead of winding someone up and letting them think that it's something it's not? Honestly, if I'd known from the start that the whole haunted cartridge thing was just a story, I probably would've enjoyed it more.

Let me just say, I KNOW that when I wrote the post I was all, "but I knew it wasn't real" and "this is what I think REALLY happened." But that was my speculation, and there was still the tiny chance that it was real--and that was what made it so special to me. It was a modern-day ghost story, and it was done so well. Had I known it was fiction, I would've fallen in love with the author on the spot and put it in my bank of maybe-I'll-ask-if-I-can-make-this-film-someday stories.

But no. Instead I couldn't sleep after reading it. But it was the good kind of insomnia, and it meant that I could write. I had files on my computer with character sketches for "Max" and his made-up ghost, photos of potential locations, and ideas for casting. (I work fast when it comes to films.) Now I feel guilty, as if I'd stolen someone else's plot (because, basically, I did). And I'm so incredibly disappointed. All that emotion and excitement and false innovation, over a story that everyone but me already knew was fake.

Is it silly that I want to cry right now?

The hell with it. I need to worry about my finals.

Mind Fornication...so good for writing

So I don’t know how many of you have heard the story of the kid who got haunted by the secondhand Legend of Zelda video game (and unfortunately I didn’t get the link to the blog from the friend who told me about this), but yeah...that happened, apparently. Basically, this guy bought a video game at a garage sale and it went all Paranormal Activity on him. Now, this story would be creepy as all hell if not for one thing: as a screenwriter you learn to look for holes in plots, and trust me, this guy’s blog is full of them. (Unless, as he claims, the “ghost” is changing bits of it to discredit him...but c’mon, guys, I think I know a teenage guy’s writing when I see it; more likely, he just forgot to stay consistent.) And I don’t know jack about video games (clearly), but according to most video game diehards, the footage of his “haunted” game, which he uploaded to YouTube, looks faker than Aly Michalka’s eyelashes.

So, to me, that leaves two possibilities. 1) This guy is a douche who enjoys scaring and/or confusing people, or 2) This guy actually thinks the game was haunting him, but is delusional in some way or suffers from some sort of mental problem. Preferring to believe the good in people (and having seen waaaay too many episodes of Criminal Minds) I leaned towards the second option.

And I’ll tell you right now, that was just all kinds of inspiring.

I couldn’t sleep last night until I’d written out the plot of that movie. I mean, can you imagine how powerful that would be: a creepy video game that tries to kill you…only to discover that it wasn’t real? It’s like Shattered Glass meets The Strangers, with a bit of Paranormal Activity thrown in for good measure. How could I not write that out?

[Update: Treatment removed for revision (and because I found out some things about the "legend" that I didn't know before)]

And now...because I know you all missed it...

STOLEN DIALOGUE

Person one: Are you bored out of your skull?

Person two: I have no skull LEFT at this point. I am skull-less.

(about Breaking Dawn)

“Is he lying? No? Is the author that delusional?”

Person one: Is anything ever going to HAPPEN in this movie?

Person two: It takes awhile to get going.

Person one: That would be a MASSIVE understatement.

“My opinion of Breaking Dawn pretty much matched Charlie’s opinion of Edward: if I had a gun, I would've just shot it.”

“Who Framed Roger Rabbit is like the Citizen Kane of the 1980’s—nobody understands the plot, but they all call it groundbreaking.”

“Well hey, I guess if I just keep listening to washing machines, I’ll have the swaggiest swagger on the whole…McSwagger!”

“I think I just got called by your phone.”

Me: So did you report the guy [who accused you of cheating when it was the other way around]?

Classmate: I mean, no, but dude, like dude, I mean, it was like, whatever, bro. I’m not an idiot.

[Me, thinking: Well, you’re doing a pretty great impression of it…]

[Note: No, I did not say this. I thought it. But I didn’t say it.]

Person one: Why did you hit me?

Person two: My breasts don’t need that much attention.

“Using soundtrack to enhance film: you're doing it wrong.”

“You know what? Sometimes I just want to be a total geek and say, ‘Holy hand grenade, Batman!’”

“Okay…now this is where the REAL mindfuck begins.”

“Justin Beiber is a war crime.”

“It was like the Westminster Chainsaw Massacre.”

“I liked to watch Power Rangers when I was like five or six…and let me just say, I like getting it done.”

“I guess this is what happens when you give a Care Bear a script about safe sex.”

“I swear, you’re just like me: Walk first, look where you’re going second.”

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 ;)

Excerpt from my NaNo Novel

Because that's just how I roll. ;)

[Note 1: In December, once I start revising this sucker, I'll actually post the whole thing, probably on a standalone blog.]

[Note 2: Just a little background--the novel is about an NYU graduate film school student who decides to challenge the MPAA. This passage is from the beginning of chapter 3.]

A few days later, I have mail. Not e-mail, real mail, so rare these days, which makes it an incredible treat.

I lock the mailbox, hurry upstairs and open my prize. The handwriting on the envelope looks vaguely familiar, and when I open it up I see why: it’s a letter from an old friend, a former Collierite, currently studying at USC.

Miranda—I’ll cut right to the chase.

You don’t know what’s been going on these last few months. We need you out here, and we need you bad. We’re in the Heart of Hollywood; the MPAA has so much control it’s ridiculous. Indie directors and screenwriters are screwed like you wouldn’t believe. Dropping the f-bomb in a PG-13 film and getting away with it is considered a victory. And yet people complain that the MPAA is getting too loose, that their standards are slipping…which is in all likelihood the reason for the crackdown in the first place.

I know you’re busy, I know you’re working hard at NYU, but please, Miranda, we need someone like you. You’ve rebelled in the past, and you have a history with USC. You spoke at the film festival and blew everyone away. Please come out here, just for a few weeks. We need someone who’s got the heart, and if your speech at the festival was any indication, you’ve got heart to spare. We’re all at our wit’s end. We need a lobbyist, and I remember how passionate you can be when you care about something. You know how to get a crowd going. We’ve suffered defeat. We’re lagging. We need a rebel. We need a kick-ass woman like you.

I sent you this in a letter instead of an e-mail for two reasons. First of all, I know you love getting mail, and yes, you might consider that to be sucking up, but frankly I’m beyond caring, as long as it gets you out here. Second, there can’t be any records of our group activity anymore. We have to be careful. So if you do come out here, don’t make it public. Tell Conor and Adrienne, if you must, but no one else.

Miranda, I am begging you—no, not begging. I’m simply asking you, filmmaker-to-filmmaker, but more than that, Collierite-to-Collierite, if you will come out here. I can’t keep this group going on my own, and people are starting to drift—they don’t see the point, they think there’s no use in fighting. But there is, and I know you know that. Please help me. You’re my secret weapon. My Woman in Black. (Don’t tell me you don’t remember that.)

And for the love of God, Miranda, hurry. Our resistance is crumbling. (Did that appeal to the former drama student in you? I hope so.)

Missing you (as always),

Cooper Riley

I read and reread the letter, analyzing from every angle and squeezing every last drop of meaning that I can out of it. My instincts are screaming at me to go, to pack up and get on the next flight to California. Adrienne would approve. I know she would. She’s always telling me to “hang the bloody consequences.” If I go, she will cover for me here until I get back.

But Conor…no. He won’t like this, not at all. And neither will Callahan. In fact, if I showed this letter to Callahan, he would have a stroke, a heart attack, and an aneurysm all at the same time…and then he’d burn the letter and give me a three-hour lecture on why rebellion must be treated with caution.

“It’s meant to be a subtle buildup, not a siege,” he’s always telling me, when I recount my glory days as a Dead Poet.

Hang consequences, Miranda! Go! Go to them! No, don’t…you’ll never get work again if you do.

The conflict bats in my head like a tennis match. I can’t go. I can’t. But oh, God how I want to.

If you do this, you will regret it for the rest of your sorry career, my inner Callahan warns me.

If you don’t do this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, Adrienne’s voice counters sharply.

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

I fish in the kitchen drawer until I find Adrienne’s cigarette lighter. It’s red, a dark, rich red, with silver carvings down one side. It fits perfectly in my hand. I’ve never held it before now.

I stand over the sink with the letter in one hand and Adrienne’s lighter in the other.

Do it.

I can’t!

Do it.

I can’t!

You can’t go. Burn the damn thing. Stop torturing yourself.

The little yellow flame dances in front of my eyes, teasing me, flirting with me. It’s hungry. It wants that paper.

Burn it. Now!

The resulting blaze lasts only a few brilliant moments—it is, after all, only one sheet of paper. I turn on the water and watch the crumbling remains of the burned letter slide down the garbage disposal. It’s not until I turn the water off and see a drop fall onto my sleeve that I realize I’m crying.

Gone. It’s gone, it’s over, I made my choice and there’s no turning back.

I'm back...

I'm sorry. That's all I can say. I know how pathetic it is that I haven't blogged for a month, and I wish I'd kept up. But college really is an insane time. The ridiculous amounts of homework, the stress of trying to make new friends and make yourself at home in a new environment, the strange new teachers (and I do mean STRANGE, guys, I assure you), and above all else, the fact that your future is at stake constantly hanging over your head.

So, I'm nineteen years old today. I wish I could write something awesome and profound and beautiful...but that just wouldn't be my style. Instead I'll update everyone on my current obsessions:

1. NaNoWriMo

This is my November obsession. This year, I'm determined to finish--and I'm actually doing surprisingly well. Yes, I know it's silly, but I love writing, and I've never actually finished a novel before, and this seems like too much fun to miss. Ignore my beatnik silliness--or let it inspire you, why not? I still say next year, EVERYONE should do NaNoWriMo.

2. Cloud Cult

Okay, so it's no secret that I like Augustana, right? Well, if you like Augustana, you will rapidly, easily get addicted to Cloud Cult. Their songs are, quite literally, epic. And by epic, I mean beautiful, melodic, soaring, poetic, and heroic. They're like a gentler version of Jim Steinman and Meatloaf. Look up any of their songs on YouTube (my introduction to them was "There's So Much Energy in Us," so I'd recommend you start there), and you will see why I love them so much.

3. Criminal Minds

Yeah. I am in love with this show, and I don't care who knows it. How can I not be, when there's a character like Spencer Reid involved? And let's not forget the ever-yummy Shemar Moore as Derek Morgan...I mean, okay, yes, I mostly do watch the show for the amazing direction, epic storylines, beautiful framing and lighting, and impeccable dialogue, but...really, a girl has eyes, you know? ;)

4. A Clockwork Orange

This movie is absolutely beautiful beyond words. I am completely in love with Alex DeLarge, and no, it's not just because an absolutely gorgeous actor plays him. It's because there has never been a character in cinema, except maybe Hannibal Lecter, who is so utterly compelling that you can't help but root for him even as you watch him rape a writer's wife, kill a cat-lover, and push his best friends into a river.

5. Goat cheese

I don't know what it is about this stuff, but it's bloody addictive. I've put it on everything--salad, pizza, even toast (which was actually really good, just in case you want to try it). It's salty, it's crumbly, it's highly flavorful, and you feel so much more sophisticated eating it than you do eating regular cheese. I don't know why that is (the bit about the sophistication, I mean) but I swear that's what happens. Try it, if you don't believe me.

6. Italy

Possibly because I'll be going there in less than two months, you think? Yeah, I'd say. But hey, if you were offered the opportunity to go around Southern Italy and Sicily and do nothing but take pictures for ten days, you would go, wouldn't you? I'd hope so. You can't imagine how much it means to me--a geeky little cinema nerd who has never left her own country, unless you count driving 45 minutes to get to Canada--to be able to go overseas and be douchey and artistic AND GET SCHOOL CREDIT FOR IT. Honestly...welcome to liberal arts school, folks.

7. CalArts

I NEED to go to this school. Maybe I'll transfer, or maybe I'll just wait until grad school, but either way, I HAVE TO STUDY THERE...I mean...TIM BURTON studied there, for heaven's sake...as did about three-fourths of the Pixar team. And yes, I know it's in the dreaded California, and I know that I made a big deal about wanting to go to the east coast for a few years first, and hey, maybe I'll still do that...but I know that if I'm going to get anywhere in this industry, I HAVE to go to CalArts. End of story.

8. Daniel Radcliffe

My Dan addiction has flared up big-time as of late. Why? I have no idea. I could blame the fact that this time of year, Harry Potter is on every bloody family channel in America, cited as part of a "holiday celebration"...why, exactly? What does Harry Potter have to do with Thanksgiving or Christmas, or don't I want to know? Anyway, I don't particularly care why my must-have-Radcliffe-itis is flaring up again. I just know that it is, and it can only be satisfied by reading and watching every interview I can possibly find.

9. Wedding dresses

Yes, you read that right. I don't know why, but I swear my internet history must be 50% David's Bridal at this point. I have no immediate plans to get married, nor am I writing out any wedding scenes in my NaNo novel, but for some reason I just keep going back and staring at the pretty dresses. I've always loved the Cinderella ballgown and its modern sisters, but really, this is just getting ridiculous.

10. The MPAA

I'll rant in greater detail about my contempt for the ratings system later. For now, everyone should just know that the subject of my NaNo novel is about a grad-school student who challenges the MPAA. Is this wise for me to admit, being a film student? Probably not. No, definitely not. Pretend I never said anything. Just go watch This Film is Not Yet Rated--Kirby Dick says it much better than I ever could.

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!"