...In which our heroine prepares for the weeks of hell.

It's Monday, 9AM, and I am awake. This is probably the first time this has happened all semester and that can only mean one thing: FINALS. I dropped my film off in the cage for better or worse, and have a full day of homework, grocery shopping, and laundry ahead of me. Is it Christmas yet?

I spent nine hours in a van yesterday on the second worst trip back to Chicago I've ever had. Emily's friend, Cameron, was nice enough to drive the two of us and three others back in her van, but I'm surprised I survived. Motion sickness for nine hours because she didn't know how to brake, turn, or take bumps, the longest McDonald's wait ever, and an unsafe driving ticket later, we somehow made it back in one piece. I was thankful for the ride, but oh my dear lord...

First bad things, now good things. I can say honestly that this was the most enjoyable trip home I've had. Thanksgiving with the family was lovely, but seeing as I hadn't seen most of my friends since August, it was great to see them. Last Thanksgiving I felt distinctly blah about high school folks (save a few) but I embraced the spirit of the holiday and learned to be thankful for everyone, crazy as they may have been.

Friday night was spent at Matt's house and I got to see everyone in one big swoop. We didn't get there until ten, and things were in full effect. It's all Lee's fault that I drank a bottle of white wine, which pairs oh so nicely with smothered/covered hash browns from Waffle House. It really brings out the aromatics in the wine, that American cheese. That poor waitress...she deserved the 50% tip I gave her. The atmosphere was great because everyone was just so glad to see some familiar yet now distant faces. Saturday was much more subdued, just a couple friends at my house, enjoying my mom's baked goods and watching the cinematic masterpiece Ice Spiders, a SciFi channel original. (Yes I know it's "SyFy" now but I refuse.)

Expect infrequent posting the next few weeks as I try to survive finals. But hey, after that, I'll officially be a junior and get to be home for a few weeks.

I'm stuck on this song right now. It's just so sweet, despite the funky tone of the rest of Evil Urges. Jim James, if you need a Penny Lane in your life, I'd be willing to take up the reins. Just don't sell me to Humble Pie for a case of Heineken and then spend the night with Bob Dylan when I overdose on Qualuudes.

...In which our heroine is delicate, but potent.

I love Black Friday. It's a tradition that my dad and I go out in the pre-dawn, and go buying, not shopping. I can't remember when we started doing it, but we always end up at Sears, in the tool department, and there are few things I love more than trying to pretend to be interested as my dad explain what a certain type of wrench does, or why $9.99 is a good price for it. Today in total I picked up: a vacuum for $25: originally $45, the first two seasons of Mad Men for $30: originally $80, and a pair of jeans/black pants for $56: originally $96. I know the whole thing is consumerism at its worst blah blah blah, but as long as you don't dawdle and know what you're going for, it can be quite a productive day, and all before 10 AM.

Thanksgiving was perfect and wonderful. Something else I look forward to is sitting on my Grandma's floor, plate in my lap. There's is a tiny house that is insanely hot, but I love it. In the past several years, we've combined Thanksgivings and all my family under one room is so awesome.

You know me well enough by now, but I feel that I should introduce you to where I come from. These are the people that have shaped me into who I am, supported me, and cared for me. This is my family, and for them I am truly thankful.

This is my Aunt Brenda, Grandma Jo, and Uncle Gene. Jo and Gene's names are actually Daisy and Arley, but we're country folk, so they have nicknames of unknown origin. I spent a lot of time in this house as a child, being cared for my Grandma Jo and my Nan. Grandma Jo made all of the delicious food yesterday. They have all given me an appreciation for hard work, sacrifice, and family.



These are my cousins: Michael, Jessica, and Nick. I'm the oldest, and the shortest. Mike is 19, Jess is 13, and Nick is 16. I'm the oldest - and the shortest. We spent a lot of time playing and fighting in that living room as little kids, but as we've gotten older, it's been interesting to watch all of their personalities develop. Mike is at UC studying pharmacy, Jess is learning the drums, and Nick is a budding culinary whiz.



And now we move to my mom's side. That's my Uncle Bob, who I've called Uncle B forever, and Grandma Mary Alice aka M.A., or Memaw. Uncle B is responsible for exposing me to lots of good art and culture things, especially in downtown Cincinnati. He's constantly volunteering, and one of those annoying people who asks you to do surveys for Cunningham research. I pretend Memaw was like Betty Draper and she gave me some awesome 1960s overcoats last night. She's a good Irish Catholic woman who always tries to feed me and tell me about how handsome Clark Gable was.



And my parents, Ken and Mary Beth. I love this picture of them so much. My dad and I have an especially close relationship because our personalities are so alike and he does wonderful things like give me lucky wheat pennies, play me obscure vinyl records that I end up loving, and push me just enough to keep me on my toes. I am glad that I was always just geeky enough as a kid that I could appreciate things like when he'd take me to comic shops or let me watch Blade Runner. He's often a man of few words, but he makes them count. My mom and I are also super close, but in a different way. She's taught me all of my good groupie skills - the meaning of concert pockets, and how to stake out a band. Everything I know from the kitchen comes from her, Memaw, or Grandma Jo. She has always been 100% honest with me, even as a child, and because of that, I tell her everything when I talk to her daily on the phone. Both of them have been so loving and supportive that I know even when I fail, they'll never lose faith in me. I have been extremely lucky to grow up in a house where sarcasm and pop culture rule equally with silliness and support. They've always accepted me just as I was, and let me be exactly who I wanted to be, which is an independent young woman living in Chicago, being a geek, and blazing my own trail.

It struck me last night how much I love my family when they're all under one roof. I am so lucky. I remember so many good things about Thanksgivings past, and those who've come and left us. What I remember more than anything else is love, and laughter.

Don Draper knows...this is probably the most beautiful speech from the series thus far.

...In which our heroine has a case of the Tuesdays.

Some thoughts for a Wednesday morning...it might be noon, but it's morning to me:

-I woke up with a headache because I dreamt something about my parents getting divorced, or slept incorrectly on my pillow. It's a grey, yucky day so I slept longer than I probably should have.
-American Dad is so terribly unfunny, but I had to watch a full episode to see cartoon versions of My Morning Jacket and Zach Galifianakis and their wonderful (albeit animated) beards.
-My shoot for my final film is tomorrow. I am doing my best not to freak the fuck out. A delightful classmate named Pam is lending me her gear tomorrow and thus I am saved another day by the filmmaking gods. Wish me luck.
-Speaking of tomorrow, the schedule is - 8AM-5PM: make a movie, 6PM-9PM: go to class, 10PM-5AM: take the bus home. Caffeine, don't fail me now.
-I CAN'T WAIT TO BE HOME.
-I'll be home until Sunday afternoon. I hope I get to see everyone, but there's always someone that gets neglected and I feel bad. There never seems to be enough time when I'm home, but I'll try!
-Who wants to go Black Friday shopping with me? I'm a pro - my dad and I go most years. I want Zack and Miri and Pineapple Express for cheap from Best Buy so there is more Seth Rogen in my life.
-I want to make pies for Thanksgiving, but won't be home in time :( My mom has proclaimed it's high time for bacon to make it's way onto the table.
-WAFFLE HOUSE. We'll meet again this weekend, hopefully post midnight, with those silly boys I spent so much time with in high school.

Spurned by a conversation this weekend, my ten favorite albums of the decade not in order:
The White Stripes - Elephant
Radiohead - In Rainbows, although Kid A is a better album
Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Girl Talk - Feed the Animals
Rilo Kiley - More Adventurous
The Arcade Fire - Funeral
Broken Social Scene - You Forgot it in People
Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion
My Morning Jacket - Z
Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes


And my ten favorite albums of all-time, in order:
The Cure - Disintegration
Pixies - Doolittle
Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Nirvana - Unplugged
Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin IV
Roxy Music - Avalon
The Replacements - Tim
Radiohead - In Rainbows
My Morning Jacket - Live at Bonnaroo 2008 - maybe shouldn't count since it's a bootleg, but oh well.

Best of's for Neil Young and The Allman Brothers Band also rank, but I thought they should be disqualified for being greatest hits.

I'm going back to Ohio, but my city is gone.

...In which our heroine goes to shows.

I am a fortunate person. Despite all the bullshit and the unnecessary worrying, there are moments in life where I just feel truly lucky. The past three days have been filled with many of those. I've gotten to see my second favorite album of all time, Doolittle, performed three nights in a row in its entirety, by my favorite band, the Pixies.

I was kind of glad to have the Thursday show to have my moment alone before being joined Friday with the BFFF. I danced, and rejoiced because I was seeing the Pixies, who I saw twice in 8th grade, and never thought I'd see again. It really struck me, alone in the beautiful Aragon Ballroom, how in the six years since I saw them last, how many things I've done. I'm not a little kid anymore. When I saw the Pixies in 8th grade, my dad was worried about me standing too much in front of him, and now here I was going to see them all by myself, in the city I lived in. And how stunningly apropos it was to have them here my birthday week, on the 2nd anniversary of the tattoo I got for them, no less.

As for the shows themselves, they were just perfect. You can tell the band is just so thrilled that people want to come see them and genuinely happy to be performing - Kim Deal did all the onstage banter, and just kept smiling. I could've cried when they bowed for curtain call Thursday night - I never thought I'd see the Pixies again and here they were. Bliss. Pure, perfect bliss.

Song highlights: "Gigantic" closing out Thursday and Saturday night. The assault of "Tame" Friday and Saturday. "Isla de Encanta" Friday night, "The Holiday Song" Saturday neither of which I thought they'd do. "No. 13 Baby" Friday, even though I'm not a huge fan of that song on the album. Non-highlights: I could really care if I ever hear "Where is my Mind?" again because of all the people who say they're Pixies fans for that song, although the disco ball was a pretty cool accompaniment. And "Here Comes Your Man." What can I say? I'm an elitist for Pixies.

Setlists - Dancing at the Manta Ray / Weird at my School / Bailey's Walk / Manta Ray / Debaser / Tame / Wave of Mutilation / I Bleed/ Here Comes Your Man/ Dead/ MONKEY GONE TO HEAVEN/ Mr. Grieves / Crackity Jones / La La Love You / No 13. Baby / There Goes My Gun / Hey / Silver / Gouge Away / Wave of Mutilation (UK Surf) / Into the White

Thursday Encore: Dig for Fire / Planet of Sound / Where is My Mind? / Gigantic
Friday Encore: Isla de Encanta / Nimrod's Son / U-Mass / Velouria
Saturday Encore: The Holiday Song / Something Against You / Vamos / Where is my Mind? / Gigantic

Friday sounded the best overall, though Thursday was the most enjoyable because it wasn't sold out, and the crowd was best Saturday. It was disgustingly hot all three nights, but who cares when you're seeing your favorite band, dancing with your BFFF? Perfection.

The band, then Mrs. John Murphy and Mr. Black Francis.

...In which our heroine provides an update.

I've been trying to come up with things to write about my birthday, but it all seems silly. I wanted to talk about how fantastic it was to reunite with the delightful boys of 813, how delicious my pumpkin cream cheese frosted cake was, how PBR is really rising in likability in the beer index. How much my lungs hated me the next day, how my friends know me well enough that Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and a dream encyclopedia were received, how there are few things more enjoyable then smoking on a deck on a chilly fall night. But those are most of the details I remember - it wasn't quite as bad as the Alice B. Toklas brownies strip club visit from last year, or the unfortunate night of shots done off a certain high school textbook that was 18 - but it's a little foggy. It was a wonderful night and I am officially two decades old.

A brief product endorsement: I never shop at Victoria's Secret. Their bras have never fit before, but I had a really good coupon and decided to try the new Miraculous bra. I have seen the light. Ladies, in case you're curious, it is not only miraculous but divine. Worth every penny for the compliments you'll receive.

It's the school week from hell, and I just want to be home for Thanksgiving and reunite with everybody. Being home does kind of put me in a weird head space though - I miss it once I'm there, but the whole time I can't wait to get back here. I went through a bunch of old stuff when I was home last week, and it's just strange. I feel so removed from that life, and home doesn't really feel the same anymore. I do miss the people though, and that's reason enough.

I love Twitter more than Facebook right now. I enjoy it not even so much for my writing on it, but reading other people's accounts. Stan Lee and Roger Ebert are particular favorites. Give it a try... www.twitter.com/katydidnt_

BIG ART! had it's first meeting this week. Briefly, they are the organization I worked for this summer, part of Columbia's Center for Community Arts Partnerships and we're trying to get a student organization off the ground. This week I get to enlighten 20 or so Chicago public high school seniors about Columbia, the film program, and the summer intensive I worked in. I really enjoy the time I spend working with them, and we'll just ignore that one of my bosses happens to be an adorable, flannel-wearing, bearded lumberjack. I'm really good at being attracted to people I shouldn't.

And these look fun -

Crazy Heart with Jeff Bridges trying to bait the Academy

Kick-Ass from Matthew Vaughn, director of Layer Cake


Leaves of Grass with the "I don't know why I think you're cute but I do" Edward Norton.

...In which our heroine is an adult now.

Today I turn 20. I'm one of those obnoxiously termed "twentysomethings" that makes me think of Carrie Bradshaw. I guess it's time to be a grown-up. Julia is in town, and we're going to birthday brunch at Yolk then all the troops are joining us tonight for a celebratory shindig at Emily's. Here's praying to the party gods for no puking or unfortunate romantic entanglements.



This was the first song I listened to at midnight, and the only song I think of that specifically references being twenty. One of my favorite Neil songs...

...In which our heroine looks ahead.

I have survived dear readers. As of today, I'm no longer deemed contagious by Columbia College and back in my dorm. Which was a total fucking mess when I returned thanks to my ever-delightful roommate. Alas, I am feeling better by the day, and honestly just want to get back to all of my classes at this point and start playing catch-up.

I register for the classes tomorrow that will make me a junior, which seems terribly odd. In a 5AM fever delirium I figured out a loose plan for the next couple of years: Continue majoring in Screenwriting, minor in Women and Gender Studies. Second semester senior year, go to LA and see if I can sell a script or get an internship before graduating. If I can't, I'm going to join Americorps and go to either Seattle or California, spend a year doing that and living, maybe applying to grad schools. It all sounds easy laid out as such, but I'm sure there will be a bunch of delightful speed bumps along the way.

Speaking of growing up, I am being pretty lame considering in three days I won't be a teenager anymore and won't have as much leniency for bad behavior. Stupid flu. I bitched a lot about 19 being a boring age, but it has by far been the most amazing, beautiful, creative, heartbreaking, stressful, and sad year of my life. I've grown in ways I can't explain, and some I can. I fell in and out of love, was wildly creative, adjusted to living in a big city and away from home, expanded my consciousness through methods legal and otherwise, and most of all decided what it is I'm meant to do in this life - at least I hope so. 20 sounds so old! Where does the time ago - I saw a commerical for the tenth anniversary of "...Baby One More Time" and nearly puked.

I am deeply embedded with the citizens of Twin Peaks. The first season is as perfect as television gets, and oh so wonderfully weird. I can't believe it was broadcast on network back in the day. The whole idea that a single mystery can bind twenty plus hours of a story is brilliant. And all this praise comes knowing even what the outcome of the show would be. Speaking of perfect television, Mad Men's season finale was fabulous. After a slooow season, Matthew Weiner amped up the stakes. I've come to realize that I hate Betty Draper with a fiery passion. It was nice to see subtle moments of character development for Don, Peggy, Pete, Harry, and Roger. Oh, and JOAN IS BACK, BITCHES. I was so glad to see her in her mod 'lil black pants and sweater-set, looking fierce as always. I also realized there are at least four people on Mad Men I'd make out with, now that's good TV! Something about television has appealed much more than film to me lately, maybe it's the Production II blues, but I really like the short-form and how well the nuances of character can be explored.

On a final note, I thank my grandfather and all the veterans for their service today. I can't imagine how much worse the horrors he saw in WWII were than what he actually told us about. Though I may not always agree with the cause, I'll always support the men and women who are willing to sacrifice and dedicate their lives to support it. Thanks, veterans, for doing something I never would or could.

I couldn't find an acceptable video of Neil Young's "War of Man" so this'll have to do.

...In which our heroine is in the trenches

Swine flu, Day 5. I am feeling somewhat better, but still pretty woozy. I can't do much of anything without feeling like I'm gonna pass out, but my fever is gone. I'm pretty sure I have a double ear infection now, which is unfortunate but not surprising. I do like having an excuse to sleep for 12 hours at a stretch.

I have no idea when I'm going back to Chicago - I have a bus ticket for Monday, but I'm guessing I'll need a doctor's clearance before I do so. I hate missing so much class, but I can't really do anything about it. I'm trying to remember the last time I had the flu, which was Christmas when I was eight, but as far as I can tell, this isn't that much worse. It came on quicker, but feeling shitty is still feeling shitty.

Watched Antichrist yesterday, and believe the hype, it's terrible. I can see why Cannes was all in a twist about it, I just don't know how anyone actually enjoyed it. A large part of the plot is poorly done sex scenes between Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg. The shock moments weren't even that shocking - maybe I'm just callous to violence but I was like yeah, she just severed his testicles and then performed self-circumcision, but it's so fake looking. Nevermind that the overall message is the inherent evil in women. Not worth anyone's time.

I started watching Twin Peaks too. I like it so far, weird as it is, and it'll help fill that Mad Men gap after Sunday. David Lynch gives me mixed feelings - he's either brilliant or bat shit crazy, but probably some of both. I really enjoyed Blue Velvet, but Wild at Heart and Mullholland Drive left me cold. My parents both loved Dale Cooper and company, so I'll probably like it as well.

Tonight's thrilling activity includes watching The Godfather Part II, which I have sadly never seen. I'm definitely in the higher tier of Columbia film students in terms of what I've seen, but there are still areas where I lack. A girl in Production II has never seen Star Wars, The Wizard of Oz, ET, Forrest Gump...the list goes on and on. This is sadly the case with a lot of film students, and I wonder what it is that made them want to go to film school then. The Dark Knight is often the answer, seriously. I love it too, but c'mon kids...

It's probably nap time again. I am just too much fun!

...In which our heroine joins in on the biggest fad of 2009.

Bacon has finally exacted it's revenge on me - I have swine flu. I figured after the highest fever of my life last night, so bad I contemplated going to the hospital, I should probably get it checked out.

I feel like death as expected. Spent an obscene amount of money on medicine. Attempting some pita chips, although nothing else has stayed down. Had to curse out my dear roommate because despite the fact that I was moaning in feverish delirium, she thought it was fine to being doing step routines in the kitchen at 3AM with her boo. My mommy is coming to get me tomorrow, and I'll get to recuperate in the Queen City, lest I have to get quarantined here.

My immune system doesn't exist anymore. Three nights in a row returning home post 4AM was probably not helpful in boosting it. I won't be going to class for a full week - that's how long I'm contagious for. Joy. I'd still rather get the natural immunities than take a marginally tested vaccine. Thankfully it's a slow work week. Watching Michelle Duggar talk about the benefits of natural childbirth. I try to hate the Duggars and I just can't. Why I can't agree with their lifestyle, they are such good-hearted people. They harbor not hate for anyone and give back constantly. 18 Kids and Counting sucks me in waaay more often than I'd like to admit.

Hopefully I don't end up with Captain Tripp's, the superflu. The miniseries for The Stand, my favorite book ever, is kind of terrible, but I've seen the whole eight hour thing probably five or six times.

...In which our heroine survived, once again.

Of course Halloween weekend gets a ramble! It was my first time going out into the city for Halloween, and the city kept up its end of the bargain.

I know when we get off the blue line train at Logan Square and see Vincent Van Gogh and Amy Winehouse, we are terribly underdressed for the Dan Deacon concert. It's chilly and windy and smells like dead leaves (and the dirty ground) when we're walking to the venue with a ton of other scene kids. Emily and I play the "look at that fucking hipster" game, and have a hard time deciding who's dressed up. The shitty opening acts take forever, but one of them has these awesome neon green shark heads that move while they play their instruments. As always, Emily knows people there. Dan Deacon keeps yelling at people to move away from his table but no one does. We dance and drown in electronic neon bliss. Dan thanks us for not doing drugs. This really is a rave, with everyone dressed up like bumblebees and luchadores and the crazy 88s. Two dance contests later, I'm disgustingly hot but then "Woof Woof" comes on. It is an insanely fun show, but I'm so toasty I'm glad when he says thank you and goodnight. Of course then it is freezing outside, and I realize we have to take two trains and a bus to get back to Wrigleyville. This takes approximately one million years. We stop by Ben's apartment and I wonder where he got that obviously original Dark Side of the Moon poster, and if he misses his Johnny Cash t-shirt. We are cordial and friendly as always, and I feel bad when he says all he does is work and school. By now it is very late, and we stop at McDonald's on the way back to Emily's. The stuff we smoke is ungodly potent. We eat, and sleep within the hour. Her couch eats me alive, and at some point in the middle of the night, it sounds like her neighbors throw a body down their back stairs. My mom wakes me up with a phone call - she's in Philadelphia watching Pearl Jam close the Spectrum out, her 23rd and 24th shows. We discuss what we call "good groupie skills" and she tells me she was only twenty or so rows away, and I say Dan Deacon stood a foot away from me, because he did. Emily and I go back to my apartment - everyone on the train looks far rougher than us. I shriek with terror when we watch Candyman with Heidi, Telly, and my RA Megan. Heidi does outstanding gore makeup on Megan's neck, and Emily and I prepare our TV characters - she's Nancy Botwin, I'm Meg Griffin. The costumes are covered with tin foil, and we go to Chipotle. For some reason I get a new burrito combination which is quite delicious. Back on the blue line. We go to a party in a loft in Wicker Park, and the costume stopping is fantastic. On the train we sing Cher with a Rollergirl in drag and female versions of Dr. Gonzo and Raoul Duke. The party is awkward, and I want to go immediately after arriving. Strawberry jello shots are better than cherry or lime, I discover. Telly and I smoke one of her hand-rolled cigarettes and say hi to Wolverine and Catwoman. It's midnight before we can get Emily and Heidi, social butterflies anywhere, to leave. Back on that same trek from last night, except it now takes two million years. I run into Leah from class while waiting half an hour at the Belmont stop, and drunk or not, it makes me smile at how glad she is to see me. A girl eats her dropped Subway off the train platform and I grimace. She gets arrested a minute later for smoking on the platform. We finally get on the train, and to Kris's where everyone is GONE. Tyler gives me a Parliament,which tastes like last fall. I love the smell of tobacco in my hair, and get giggly, eating too much candy and watching Kris and Tyler do Wrestlemania impersonations. Grace falls asleep in her Audrey Hepburn makeup, and we don't leave until 3 or 4 - half our phones haven't made the switch yet. This is the latest I've ever taken the train. A very drunk Mike Tyson gets abandoned at some stop by his friends, and in his place a guy gets on and smokes a bowl, right in the middle of the car. A very scary homeless man sits behind us, and while I'm not paying attention, Telly grabs Heidi and I and tells us to move. I assume he has a weapon, but no, Telly says he was getting personally intimate. On the train. This is why I do not take it alone past one. I thank my lucky stars for making it home alive and not vomited on. The multitude of shit shows in the lobby is amusing. Amateurs. Bed has rarely felt so good, nor has brushing the sugar off my teeth, like my eight-year old self. Some things change, others stay the same.

Sara Quin (Telly) of Tegan and Sara and Meg Griffin make careers out of being awkward.

Heidi should've worn her helmet on Legends of the Hidden Temple...

Emily IS Nancy Botwin. And that is oregano and basil, I promise.

Obviously this is not the Dan Deacon show I was at, but we did this. So, so fun:

Dan Deacon Dance-Off from kata rokkar on Vimeo.
As an aside, why do no one's posts show up in my blog list anymore? And neither do mine. It still shows that my last post was actually the third one ago I wrote. And it says the same for Cassandra and Gallacher. WTF maaaan. How do I fix?