So… being a junior in college apparently means I have to start giving a shit and actually work hard to maintain my life schedule. Whatever. Now that we’ve addressed it, maybe that gives it less power? One can only hope. In any case, I apologize for the, um, five month hiatus? Yes. I am very, very sorry. Let us address a few other things! I’ll catch you up on the main points of why I’ve been too busy to write. (This is a very awful thing.)
1. Pre-Calculus. If you really know me, you know that I’d rather take a class on clubbing baby seals than a math class. My brain computes numbers in quite the same manner that a toaster computes water: It fucking doesn’t. And everything is ruined. That is basically what happened this semester. My math professor was a gentle soul who wore pastel polos and seemed to be more excited about logarithms and matrices than Christmas break. Somebody who isn’t excited about gifts, overeating, and vacation time? Well they are the Antichrist. This professor seemed absolutely terrified of teaching, to the point where attendance was practically subliminally discouraged. Naturally, the class followed suit and just didn’t show up. Ever. I’m sure this made it easy on him. As wonderfully nice as this professor was, it just wasn’t enough. I admittedly have the attention span of a goldfish, a Charlie Brown level of complete apathy, and my brain translates mathematics into Chinese.
So I kind of needed more. I needed a professor that was aggressive and enthusiastic about teaching math, not someone who mirrored by “Who the fuck cares” attitude. This semester was hard. Math sucks. I basically had to neglect my other classes just so I could stay afloat in math… which generally never happens. Long story short: I bombed every test except the final – on which I earned the first B letter grade I’ve ever earned on a math exam in my entire life. This is good. I passed the class. No more math. GREAT.
2. Rapture Police. I’m an independent filmmaker, which is a euphemism for ‘creatively-inclined starving artist bitch who doesn’t care about anything else.’ Filmmaking has engulfed a large portion of my time and my college career, which I am completely okay with, and my experience in the field has become increasingly pleasant and successful. Also, it has driven me a little crazy. I was already crazy, so this can only mean the good kind of crazy (let’s pretend this exists). My new film is a feature-length called Rapture Police, and it’s basically about drugs, college, a chaotic network web, awkward coincidences, and missing links. My cowriter and I took about a year in the preproduction blueprinting stage, and we’ve been filming for five months now. Like always, filming always takes longer than anticipated, I keep forgetting that my actors actually have lives, and overall there are more hurdles than a fucking track meet. Scheduling was chaotic and scenes were pushed around because some of my leads are going abroad in the Spring, and you just can’t finish a film when your main character is hobbling around in the Middle East.
Also, special effects are a gigantic thorn in my ass, because they require time and money – two things that I never have. So the more detailed scenes are postponed to the Spring so they are better planned. But! I am proud to say that RP production is exactly halfway finished and is being edited during this break before we pick up filming again in mid-January. My actors are amazing – each one of them extremely talented and some of Trinity Drama’s best kept secrets. The story of RP is actually coming to life. My Canon Rebel T2i, Carlotta, is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m always excited about filming, but as usual I end up biting off more than I can chew. BUT GUESS WHAT, WORLD? I can chew a lot. I mean, a lot. I’m writing, producing, scheduling, editing, and directing this film very much on my own, with the help of a few extra hands. But I am basically a solo kind of working girl; I like it that way. Control freak? Maybe. Out of my mind? Absolutely. The scheduling is a total hell show, and my directing is very off-the-fly and free-thinking, but I get what I want every single time and I get shit done. I think this actually makes me cut out for film in the real world, because I take on more duties than I should, but I force myself to just handle it. I’m also kind of making up for lost time from my first film, which was basically destroyed (but we don’t talk about that). The independent filmmaker/college student lifestyle is batshit crazy. Emergen-C and Flintstone Vitamins might as well be my crack cocaine. I have the sleeping patterns of an elderly woman on ample Red Bull. My cramming has been perfected down to an art. But I’ve learned that it’s just what I need to do in order to stay sane; passion comes before requirement. Yes, this means I might neglect other areas of my life – but they’re not vital areas or anything. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
3. TriniLand. I say this as a general topic, because it regards my life in a nutshell. Let’s just say I don’t remember what my own room looks like sometimes, because I’m never there. I had five classes other than math. I worked for our campus TV station, I learned about Jesus and dirt, I filmed many montage shorts… all that great stuff. I’m in a sorority. That takes up a lot of my time. Rush this year has been crazy, but I’ve loved every minute of it. Our formal rush date party, War & Peace, was a huge success and I went dressed as Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (PEACE OUT, by the way). I’m in the AcaBellas, which also takes up a lot of my time. We arrange stuff, we sing, we make shirts, we argue about singing cuss words in songs – it’s actually quite great. We had a combo concert with the Trinitones, which was part awesome, part pre-show disaster, part hilarious. In short, the AcaBellas rehearsed a secret song in the men’s bathroom in an effort to hide from the Trinitones. We’re cute.
There was that Trinity Idol thing, which happened to be on the same week that I was the Lips in Rocky Horror Picture Show… so it goes without saying that I never slept and drank just a whole lot. Health win!
Anyway, Trinity Idol was alright. I was backstage frantically trying to remember the lyrics to “Hallelujah” and when it finally came time for me to sing, I couldn’t see anything because I was blinded by the spotlight… and somehow managed to remember the words. I won and it was awkward, and the Trinitonian plastered what appeared to be my O-Face on the front page – that was charming. Even my mother lol’d.
Along the same lines of forgetting words, I was also in a theatre lab show called The Long Christmas Dinner directed by my wonderful and talented friend, Chelsea. I played some old, senile broad who was the matriarch of a dysfunctional family – it was a great show that carried through several generations of fucked-upness that goes on in families where people are stubborn, haggard, and can’t tolerate each other. Anyhow, I had a few lines that were fairly easy to remember. One of them was when I was sitting at the dinner table, eating, in a delirious stupor: “I can remember when there were still Indians on this very land… and I wasn’t a young girl either!” Not so bad. Meanwhile, I’m backstage trying to collect myself and rehearse my lines before my entrance. For some awful, unknown reason, something compels me to say ‘aliens’ instead of ‘Indians’ so I’m desperately trying to correct myself.
I go on stage, and all is well, until it comes time for me to spit out that line. I mindlessly act and recite my line, until I realize in a split second that I just said: “I can remember when there were still aliens…” and I try so hard to hide that “Oh fuck” look on my face from everyone in the audience. So I do the logical thing and just play it off like I lost my fucking mind and I’m knocking on death’s door with my nonsense: “I can remember when there were still aliens… *pause* Indians and aliens on this very land… and I wasn’t a young girl either! Oh YES!” and the audience bursts out in laughter. Meanwhile, I’m shitting so many bricks that I could literally build a nice house for my director, who is practically beside herself in the audience. Since I was in the first part of the show, I was expecting everyone to forget all about my extraterrestrial fuck-up. They did not.
What else… oh yeah, Storch Cat died. I was really sad about it. So I dressed up as her for Halloween. I don’t remember much of that night… because I was feral! Yes. Feral.
So there you have it. All of the above is why I’ve been too busy to update my site. I have a feeling that this semester may allow me some time to catch up, but shit happens. Winter break has been lovely. I’ve been editing RP, writing, drinking copious amounts of tea, finishing crossword puzzles, and spending money like it’s my job. Hopefully I have the time to continue this. Christmas was nothing short of a shitshow, as my family is full of too much estrogen and ego. We played La Loteria on Christmas Eve, which ended up lasting until 3AM with a large money pot and people arguing over their wagers. I’ve been taking cat naps like they’re going out of style (they never will) and mimosas have been a regular component of my diet. I can’t complain.