Mischief Managed: Graduation Tomorrow!

Apparently, decorating the top of your grad cap is some great tradition that I was mostly unaware of. My Facebook feed has been full of friends’ photos of their decorated boards.

Unfortunately, I have no artistic talent to speak of…and graduation is tomorrow, so there really isn’t time for me to run to the store, buy the necessary paints and glues, and decorate my cap without a major time crunch.

The tape may be a little tacky, but I think it turned out pretty OK.

I’m Going to Do Something

The great writer and critic Dorothy Parker once said, “I’m never going to be famous. My name will never be writ large on the roster of Those Who Do Things. I don’t do anything. Not one single thing. I used to bite my nails, but I don’t even do that anymore.”

I’m pretty sure I’ve quoted that multiple times on this blog. I should probably look into getting some new material, but it’s a very applicable quote. Like the late Mrs. Parker, I don’t really do anything. Not one single thing. Unless you consider swearing doing something, I do that a lot.

A few months ago, I decided it’s time to do something. And if I’m going to do something, I’m going to do something worthwhile, something that actually matters. I can’t think of a better something to do than Teach For America, which is why it went on the List (#158).  I finally (finally!) submitted my application today, so we’ll see what happens.

I would really love to be a part of Teach For America, because I have a great amount of respect for what they’re doing, or trying to do, for the American education system. I believe that everyone has a right to an education and that socioeconomic status shouldn’t dictate the level or quality of education that a student receives. I come from a very, very poor family, but by some miracle went to school in a fantastic district that had the resources to ensure their students were successful. The best resource we had was the teachers. Without them, I wouldn’t have been as academically successful as I am today, and I wouldn’t have been able to attend college on a four-year scholarship.

So, thanks, teachers. Thanks for helping me get to where I am today. Hopefully I can Pay It Forward next year through Teach For America, after I graduate in May.

Speaking of which, when did that happen? There is no way four years have passed already. But, according to my academic progress report, my certificate is complete and I am currently taking my final credit hours to earn my Bachelors (#3—on my list, not my third degree).

Yikes.

What exactly is a Film and Media Studies major supposed to do after graduation?

Time for a whole new round of applications, I suppose.

I’m a Big Kid

I began my college career with the crazy idea that I was going to be a journalist.  My freshman year was spent locked away in my dorm room studying the history of journalism, the role of technology in journalism today, the basics of news reporting and editing, and the dreaded AP Style.  My days were plagued with nonsensical grammar rules and an onslaught of depressing headlines that reached me at all hours of the day via paper, computer, and text message.

I spent my freshman year of college slowly losing my mind.

The only thing that kept me going during those dark days were the “old school” cartoons I streamed from Netflix, the ones I grew up watching as a kid.  Doug, Hey Arnold, Rugrats…they helped me power through the sleepless nights spent trying to dig up my buried ledes and swapping out periods for commas in my text.  It wasn’t until the end of my second semester that I realized that is what I wanted to do.

I wanted to make cartoons.

Unfortunately, I have no artistic skills to speak of.  My visual arts prowess consists entirely of stick figures beady eyes and wide smiles and tilting houses, complete with the little squiggles of smoke wafting out the lopsided chimneys.

And so, gentle readers, I decided I wanted to do the next best thing.  I wanted to write the cartoons.  So, before the end of my second semester of journalistic studies, I changed my major and enrolled in the Film and Media Studies program at Arizona State University.

It was by far the best decision I have ever made.  My last two years of college have been fantastic.  I’ve learned a lot of valuable skills I can use in real life at a job that I actually want.  I look forward to going to class and I actually enjoy writing most of my papers.

With my junior year almost over and my senior year fast approaching, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I want to do with my life.  The cartoon idea still applies—I’m a big kid at heart; in fact, I think one of my professors actually said I had the maturity of a 12-year-old sometimes.

I took that as a compliment.

After hours of research and a handful of career interest questionnaires, I’ve come to the conclusion that I want to be a children’s content producer.  I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.  It’s perfect for me.

I just don’t know how I’m going to break into that field.  I’m starting with an application for a production internship at Pixar Animation Studios.   It seems like a step in the right direction.  I want to produce children’s content, they make children’s content and are in need of a production assistant.  It’s a match made in heaven, don’t you think?  Hopefully they see that, because I would love to have the opportunity to work there and see the production process firsthand.

It would be a dream come true. I mean, really, it’d be an actual dream come true.  I am in love with everything Pixar.

My love affair with Pixar began in 1995, with the release of Toy Story.   Before that, I’d been strictly a Disney Kid, pledging my undying love and devotion to The Lion King, 101 Dalmatians, Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, and The Little Mermaid (and those were only the most watched movies in my massive VHS collection).   Once I saw Toy Story, however, things changed.  Everything was so lifelike and, if we’re being entirely honest gentle readers, I’d often wondered if my toys came to life when no one could see.

Toy Story confirmed everything my five-year-old brain believed to be true.  Toys did come to life when no one was around and they did incredibly awesome things.

After Toy Story came A Bug’s Life and I was ready to move from a love affair into a committed relationship, just in time for Toy Story 2.

I can’t think of a better way to start a career in children’s content production than an internship at Pixar.

I’d better go finish that application… too bad I can’t make this my cover letter, I think it sounds better than, “The intent of this letter is to…”  Maybe I can rework this into something that sounds professional….

Insomnia & Warehouse 13

Finals are over, and so is my sophomore year of college–a mildly frightening thought considering I still have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do after I graduate.  I’m still waiting on tenterhooks (I really like that phrase for some reason, think I’ll try and use it more often…) for the results of some of my exams, so we’ll see how everything went at the end of the week.

While studying for these exams and writing an obscene amount of final essays, I developed a very bad–oh who are we kidding? I’m an insomniac anyway.  It was just worse these last 2 weeks because I was up till 4 in the morning writing and studying.

Getting my sleep cycle back to (relatively) hasn’t been working out too great.  But, on the bright side, it meant I was able to watch all of the epic Eureka/Warehouse 13 marathon on SyFy the other day/night/mornight.  I’ve never seen Warehouse 13 before, and after watching all of Season 2, I simply cannot understand why.

It has most all of my favorite elements:  sci-fi, supernatural, historical, random factoids…the list goes on.

The basic premise is that Warehouse 13 is that there’s this huge super-secret government Warehouse in the Middle of Nowhere, South Dakota (a fictional–I hope–town called Univille) that houses “artifacts.”  These artifacts have ties to a mythological or historical figure (ex: Pandora’s Box, Ben Franklin’s Lightening Rod, Lewis Carroll’s Looking-Glass…) and possess some sort of–supernatural trace of their original owner’s personality.  Some are good (and kind of cool) and others are very, very, very bad.  The Warehouse stores them all so they don’t fall into the wrong hands and wreak havoc.

It’s one of my new show obsessions (the other is the BBC’s Sherlock, which I highly recommend) and sometime during the marathon (around 4:30am or so) I thought up a short little list of things that I think would make pretty sweet artifacts.  I took the five least insane and decided to post them here:

• So, back in the 16^th century there was this ninja(!) named Hanzo Hattori.   Sound familiar? Well, if you’ve seen Kill Bill, it’s the name of the sword master.  This is just one of the many ways this badass ninja clan leader has been honored/portrayed throughout history, for (some) good reasons.He fought in the battle of Anagawa (1570) where he led a night raid into the enemy’s camp where he not only managed to successfully sneak inside, but kill so many of them that they had to withdraw from the battle.  This led to not only a fearsome reputation, but a lot of stories in which he was thought to be invisible or capable of teleportation.

  So, what if he had some sort of armor or weapon that made him invisible or capable of teleporting?  I think that’d make a good artifact, gentle readers, don’t you?  A little cliché, sure, but c’mon:  ninja invisibility.  That practically screams ‘artifact.’  (Or, you know, whispers.)

• In 1927, Isadora Duncan (known as the “mother of modern dance”) died after being strangled by her favorite, trademark scarf.   I couldn’t find many details (oh, hey, obscurity…), but from what I can gather, there was a car that was passing by and her scarf somehow wound its way around the wheel and dragged her.Ouch.

  Sounds like the makings of an artifact though. Just enough obscurity to come up with a really good story, freaky, and more than a little disturbing. Plus there’s the added bonus that the plot would thicken if one of the agents were to be attacked by the silk accessory.

• Theodor Seuss Geisel (you, gentle readers, might know him better as Dr. Seuss) often credited his rhyming prowess to his mother, Henrietta Seuss Geisel, whose idea of a nighttime lullaby was chanting a rhyme that she remembered from her childhood.Anyone else see artifact potential here? A piece of his mother’s jewelry? A pair of glasses? Some other little doodad or knick-knack?

• Rose colored glasses. During the Civil War, colored lenses were used to treat sick people.  Got syphilis? Here’s a pair of yellow sunglasses.  Insane? Try blue.  Depressed? Here’s a wonderful pair of pink lenses.  (This, gentle readers, is where we get the that clichéd phrase, “seeing the world through rose-colored glasses.”)

  So, put the glasses on, feel absolutely fantastic about yourself and the world.  Pretty harmless…or is it?

• No one has any idea what Shakespeare did between 1585 and 1592, which is when he began his writing career.  So, there’s no way of knowing how it actually started or why/how he became so famous.Over the course of his life, he wrote 37 plays (an average of 1.5 per year) and 154 sonnets.  And there were some who believed he didn’t even write them all himself.

  So, what if he had some help from an artifact?  A quill perhaps? Or, better yet, that always-fashionable ruffled collar.

I might actually marathon Season 1 (or the rest of Season 1, I started watching it a few hours before posting this) this summer and take a stab at a spec script using one of those in some way, shape, or form; we’ll see what happens.

100 Pages in a Day and a Sixth

In ten minutes, gentle readers, I’m going to attempt something quite suicidal (especially during finals!).

I am going to try and complete Script Frenzy before tomorrow at midnight.  I really wanted to win again this year, but school has made it pretty much impossible for me.  So, with my deadline in mind, I’m going to take my screenwriting final assignment and expand it from 15 pages to about 80 (I’ve already got a good 10 pages done).

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…

I foresee a lot of coffee in my future.

Edit:  Never again will I be drinking coffee.  If I do, it’ll be decaf.  Apparently, I’ve kicked that addiction (see Tumblr for details, it was on my list).

I worked up until 11:50ish and only managed 79 pages.  It’s not a win, but it’s better than nothing I suppose.  Hopefully I’ll totally kick some Script Frenzy ass next year and manage the full 100.

Are there any college screnziers out there who think that April is a really inconvenient time for this? I’m in the middle of finals right now, so 100 pages isn’t that feasible.  Hopefully it’s different next year.

Congratulations to everyone who made it the whole way! My hat’s off to you!

Just One of Those Days…

Anyone seen the episode of Everybody Loves Raymond where Marie takes a stab at sculpturing and winds up making a giant–I can’t write it. I have family who reads this.  If you’ve seen the episode, you’ll know what I’m talking about.  Apparently, it’s based off of a real statute outside the Rockland County, New York, courthouse.  (Google it if you don’t believe me).

I have a feeling that someday, the giant hanging piece of “modern artwork” in Civic Space Park in Phoenix will have it’s own comedy show counterpart.

Gentle readers, I give you “Her Secret is Patience” (seriously, that’s the name of the thing):

Yeah…there it is.  There are a lot of jokes that go around campus about this thing.

Anyway.  That’s not the only feature of the park.  There’s an “interactive fountain” for kids–well, kids and bums.  It’s one of those ones that shoots water up from the ground for kids to play in (or bums to bathe in, depending on the time of day).  I never really payed much attention to it before, until today.

I overslept till noon and had 15 minutes to run from my dorm to the train so I could make it to my Bio 100 lecture on time.  So, traded my pajama pants in for some jeans, grabbed my bag and ran out the door.  Literally, I was running (not the wisest thing for a severe asthmatic to do).

I’m crossing the park and walked over the fountain, which was off.  The train was pulling up, I was going to make it…

And then the fountain went off.  I was soaked, and I missed the train.

I decided to just head back to my dorm and change my clothes.  Needless to day, I didn’t make it to my Bio lecture.

In hindsight, it’s actually kind of funny.  At the time though, it was kind of a sucky way to start my day.

And then my day ended with a giant, heavy, plastic cereal dispenser in the cafeteria falling on my face.  I think I’ll have a shiner in the morning.

I wonder if I can get away with saying I was in a fistfight…

Asthma: Bad. Comic Books: Good.

When a normal person breaths, the air goes through the nose or mouth down to the trachea (windpipe), enters the bronchioles (airways of the lung),  is oxygenated at the alveoli (tiny grape-like sacs in the lungs where oxygen is swapped out for carbon dioxide), and then goes back out.

When an asthmatic (such as myself) breaths, there’s a very high chance that an insane amount of allergen triggers (like smoke, dust, pollen) and even infections (like colds and bronchitis) can cause the airways to constrict, obstructing airflow, and make breathing damned near impossible.

This has been happening to me for the last three weeks.  I’m not entirely sure what’s setting it off this time (construction dust from across the street, pollen from just about everything in bloom, smog because Phoenix air quality is very questionable…take your pick).  All I can say is, it’s getting really old.

What’s worse is, when this happens, I can’t leave my room.  I’m stuck in here using all these different inhalers and breathing treatments to keep my airways open, and I can’t go to class.  I’ve missed two and a half weeks worth of lectures and film school screenings! I think it’s starting to seriously take a toll on my grades.

But, I suppose you could call this a bright side, I have had time to look more into independent writing projects I’ve wanted to tackle for awhile now, starting with the Marvel vs. DC post series I mentioned a few weeks ago.  I still plan on doing this because, let’s face it, it’s too fantastic not to.

The first step in this Endeavor was starting research into the two brands.  I’ll be the first to admit, while I’m a bit of a Fan Girl in some respects, I don’t really know that much about the brands themselves.  My friend, fellow film student, and newfound source for all things comics, John, directed me to the site Comic Vine as a source and, let me just say, this is by far one of the most comprehensive site’s I’ve seen so far.  Owned and operated by San Francisco based Whiskey Media, Comic Vine is ,”the world’s largest comic book encyclopedia” filled with a wealth of comic book news, information, podcasts and video (and that’s just the stuff I’ve had time to look at so far).  It’s all really well organized, easy to navigate and really informative.

So, until I get the first post of this Endeavor up and running, kick around the Comic Vine site for a bit.  Batman fans might be interested in this piece on whether or not more Batmen mean more Bat-villains.

Also, while we’re on the note about comic books, who saw the most recent trailer for Captain America? In case you didn’t, watch it on the Entertainment Weekly website.

Can you say “awesome,” gentle readers?

I know, I said the first time that it looked like a fan made trailer, but this was much, much better.  Not only was it longer, but it actually looked good this time.  I can’t wait for this and Thor!

Bite Me.

To the University Powers That Be,

Why do general studies requirements exist?

I’m a Film and Media Studies/Screenwriting major.  I should only have to take classes that pertain to my major.  I shouldn’t have to worry about Bio 100 and insane professors who treat a 100-level course like it’s a graduate class.

I’m never going to use anything I learn in this class in real life.  If I need to write something about biology or a reference to biology, I’ll consult a professional about it.  Or research it then.  It’s not like I’m going to remember anything from this class in 2 years.

The same could be said for math.  I will never use anything beyond basic math skills for the rest of my life, so I shouldn’t have been made to take 2 different math classes that brought my GPA down because I can’t bloody do math beyond Algebra I.

Actually, I had to retake Algebra I.  That’s how bad I am at math!

So you know what, University Powers That Be?

Bite me.

Any other college kids out there feel like this?  Am I the only one who thinks general studies requirements are a waste of time?

To See, or Not to See?

Greetings, gentle readers!

The other day, I was thinking about how shocking it was that I actually graduated high school.  It’s not that I’m really stupid and was failing all my classes; I just had a tendency to skip out on all my boring ones (under the guise of going to my locker or the library) and sneak into my friends’ more exciting ones.  If the teachers noticed, they never said anything (actually, a few did, but they liked me so it was all good).  While I wasn’t getting credit for the classes, I liked them.  They were interesting.  I actually learned things.

Today, I did something similar.  Everyone remember FMS 302? Well, there’s a continuation of that class this semester that I was really looking forward to taking; but unfortunately, my Bio 100 Lab is at the same time on Mondays, which means I couldn’t take it (damn scheduling conflicts…).

Wednesdays however, I don’t have a class.  So today, I sat in on the FMS 302 continuation (which I’m pretty sure the Prof was ok with).   It made me realize just how pissed I am that I can’t take this class this semester.

Guess what they were talking about, gentle readers?  Go ahead, guess…

Answer:  Movie trailers aired during the Super Bowl and the effectiveness (or lack thereof) of the movies’ posters.

Now, three stuck out in particular (probably because I’m a bit of a fangirl…):

Thor.

The best trailer in my opinion.  It grabs your attention, gives you a bit of a backstory without giving too much of it away, and sells a number of things to get people’s butts in the seats come opening weekend (adventure, supernatural, Marvel, 3D, sex, romance, redemption…)

Captain America.

Know what this reminds me of? A fan made trailer where they take scenes of a movie that don’t really fit together and do a mashup to really loud music. And it was only 33 seconds! I’m still excited to see this one though

The Green Lantern.

No just….no.

I don’t know what it is about DC versus Marvel in the movies but, to me anyway, it seems like Marvel does a better job adapting their heroes and villains to the times.  I mean, did you see who the Green Lantern’s up against? Couldn’t they have made it less…Sketchy-Mad-Scientist-With-Huge-Foredhead-From-The-1950s?  This is not timeless.  This doesn’t translate well to the screen.

Now, if they had shown it as a comedy (like the end of the trailer, with the suit–by the way: wtf?) I might have considered giving it a shot.  But first, it’s a drama.  Then it’s a–weird thing I don’t even know how to describe.  And then, a couple jokes.

What?

Is anyone else horribly confused by this? Does anyone else plan on paying &7.50 to see this in theaters? I don’t.

Bring on Thor and Captain America!

What say you, gentle readers?  Any thoughts?

Ok, So Here’s the Thing (or: Lost in Translation)©

Ok, so this was a “Voice Exercise” I had to write for English 105.  It had to start with “I can’t call my brother anymore because recently I discovered he transformed into broccoli.”  and include the name of a Tibetan city, an ingredient found in Twinkies and the phrase “Lazy Susan.”

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

“I can’t call my brother anymore because recently I discovered he transformed into broccoli.”  I had to hold the phone away from my ear Jillian was laughing so loudly.  I patiently waited for her to catch her breath—which took a grand total of 5 minutes.  A new record.

“No, really,” she giggled.  “Why can’t you call your brother and ask where the spare key is?” I took a deep breath, resituating myself on the couch.  I put the phone on speaker, not wanting to cradle it between my shoulder and my neck for what I knew was about to be one of the longest phone conversations in the history of our friendship.

“Get comfortable,” I instructed.

“This should be good.”  I could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Ok, so here’s the thing.”

“Oh God,” she deadpanned.  “The last time you started a story like that I discovered why you should never again be left alone with a Lazy Susan, water balloons, and those elastic exercise bands.”  I grinned, remembering the look on my roommate’s face when the onslaught of Jell-O filled balloons hit her as she walked through the front door.  Good times, good times.

“Well, this is going to top that,” I promised.  “This really is one for the books. This is even better than the time we took the office chairs from the display in Wal-Mart and camped out in front of the big screen TVs when Slumdog Millionaire came out on DVD then rode them through the aisles singing Jai Ho at the top of our lungs.  And it’s way better than when my biology lab group stuffed the sinks and turned the floor into a giant Slip-N-Slide.  And—”

“Stop stalling and tell me already!” She demanded.

“Ok so here’s the thing,”

“You already said that!”

“Stop interrupting,” I snapped.  “Do you want to hear the story?”  She didn’t respond.  “Well?”

“You told me to stop interrupting.” Again, I could hear the smirk.  I rolled my eyes and decided to ignore her smug comment.

“Well my brother went on this self-finding, soul searching, Enlightenment reaching trip to Lhasa—in Tibet.  I guess there’s this big temple there that’s a historic monument or something like that.  There’s all these murals and a bunch of monks.  It’s supposed to be very spiritual.  Anyway, he decides that he’s going to get in touch with a Guru over there and piece together this Enlightenment thing he was rattling about a few months ago.”

“Aren’t you guys Catholic?” She asked, sounding confused.  “Enlightenment is a Buddhist belief.”

“I know that.  But he thought it sounded cool.  You know how he can be.”  She hummed in agreement, no doubt remembering the time he thought it would be cool to jump his mini-bike across the wash in our old neighborhood.  He wound up breaking his wrist in three places and knocking one of his front teeth out.  “So he decides to head to Tibet to reach Enlightenment.”

“Why not India? That makes more sense.”

“I told you to stop interrupting.  And I don’t know! Why does he do anything he does? It’s a mystery of the ages.  So, he catches a flight out a few months ago and reaches the temple.  According to this Guru who contacted me, he told him that the only way he could reach Enlightenment was to be at peace with himself.  And the only way to do that is to look deep inside yourself, discover your innermost fear, and conquer it.”

“Ok. With you so far.”

“Well, this Guru only speaks Tibetan, there was a translator.”

“If the Guru only speaks Tibetan then how’d he tell you all this?” Jill asked, incredulity seeping through her voice.

“Translator.  The Guru contacted me but I had to talk to the translator.  Anyway, the translator my brother was working with was a complete moron who translated wrong and told my brother he had to become what he feared the most.”

“Your brother fears broccoli? How do you fear a vegetable? It’s a healthy green thing with a fuzzy top that you eat.  How can you fear something that you eat?” She cried.

“Um, there was this thing a few years ago at Thanksgiving with a fortune teller and stories about being poisoned by something that looked green and delicious and my aunt’s cheesy broccoli dish, which used to be his favourite until that carnival—it was—just don’t worry about it,” I said finally.

“Wait, fortune teller? Carnival? Cheesy broccoli?” She asked.  Her voice went up an octave with every question.

“Another story for another day,” I assured her.  “Anyway, so I guess my brother went into this trance for like 2 weeks and when the Guru went to check on him one morning, he was a piece of broccoli.”  There was a long silence on the other end of the line.    “Hello?”

“You’re so full of it!” She exclaimed.  “That has to be one of your better stories.  A little on the odd side though.  You haven’t been drinking coffee again, have you?” I glanced down at the half empty mug in my hands, guiltily setting it on the side table next to me.

“No,” I lied.

“Again, you’re so full of it.” She laughed.

“I am not! I swear to you, my brother turned into a piece of broccoli in Lhasa!”  I cried.  More silence.

“I want proof,” she said finally.

“Proof?”

“Yes, proof.”

“Fine.  Come on over and I’ll show you.”  I reached over and snatched my phone off the table, pressing the end button.  Grudgingly, I pushed myself up off the couch and wandered into the kitchen.  There was a good chance she wouldn’t believe me—say that I bought the broccoli before she came over, or pulled it out of my fridge after hanging up on her.

But I had the letter that came with the large FedEx package two days ago, along with the vegetable that used to be my brother.  I guess, in the most abstract of senses there was, he still was my brother.

Just in vegetable form.

I glared at the green thing sitting on the kitchen counter.  “You’re such an idiot!” I threw my hands up in the air and paced across all three feet of my kitchen.  “Of all the stupid stunts you could have pulled, this really tops the list.”  I stared at it, almost expecting some wise-ass comment.  But vegetables don’t talk; which I was thankful for.  This whole thing was weird enough as it was.  I didn’t want to deal with a piece of broccoli that could talk to me.

I sighed, pulling the note out of the kitchen drawer directly beneath it—him.  I scanned over it for what must have been the hundredth time in the last two days.

Dear Miss James,

Enclosed you will find your brother.  As you can see, he is still a piece of broccoli.  We are terribly sorry for this mishap. Hopefully your brother will reach Enlightenment soon and end this—unfortunate occurrence.  Rest assured that he will not rot in his vegetable form in the process.  We have taken care to preserve him with sorbic acid; the same ingredient used in perishables such as wine, carbonated drinks, pickles, and Twinkies.

Once again, we are terribly sorry for your brother’s current state.

Respectfully yours,

Guru Gampo & Skechy the Translator