...In which our heroine is goin' out west.

Remember me? Yeah, didn't think so. I've been sort of busy writing curriculum for an after-school program in the former Cabrini Green neighborhood, getting promoted, being a semi-finalist for the Michael Collyer Fellowship, submitting work to the Sundance Screenwriters Lab, writing a big girl blog, trying to graduate college, and most wonderfully, falling in love with one of the best fellas I've ever met.

This blog began to chronicle my time in Chicago. Well, it seems now, Katydid is headed west: I've been accepted to Columbia's Semester in LA program, which begins in February, with my Jack and my favorite screenwriting pals.

I am thrilled, relieved, ecstatic, excited, nervous, and proud. The classes take place at Raleigh Studios on Melrose Avenue - which is across the goddamn street from Paramount - and I'm not at all ashamed to say I can't wait to see some famous folks. And my birthday is Monday - I can't think of a better gift.

Maybe I'll revive this as a chronicle of my travels West - I'd sort of like to drive out on Route 66 because when the hell else am I ever going to do that? We shall see.

A new adventure, which feels like the right, most logical next step in my life begins in three months. I cannot fucking wait.

...In which our heroine gets weird.

I had an existential crisis on Friday. Nothing in particular prompted it, just an amalgamation of factors that I think are pointing to an increase in my consciousness of my surroundings and the flaws within them. I spent the day having an interior freak out about technology and the successes and failures it has as a means of connection. Over spring break, I asked my grandmother if she knew what Facebook was. She did, and it rightly weirded her out. All of our technological tethers are empowering and harming us. Our greater connectivity means we live lives outside of face-to-face connection. It's a great thing: writing in a medium such as this allows me to provide updates and stay in touch with people I may not be able to otherwise, or at least with a lesser effort.

But it wasn't just the technology freak out. Certain recent experiences have made me question things I've always assumed to be true. Why do I assume that? If a subject interests me, I go fully into exploring it, and with topics I've been exploring recently like the Masons and JFK's assassination and Terence McKenna's Time Wave Zero Theory, it seems that there's a lot the masses either don't know or don't care to know. Have I lost you with the crazy yet? Part of why this new awareness is wearing on me is because I don't know if I'm just some sort of weird crackpot who reads too much Wikipedia, or this is normal behavior for a 21 year-old. I've found that certain belief and moral systems have worn out for me, so I'm looking elsewhere for things I perceive as true, or at least things I can buy into more.

Am I just a typical college student rabble rouser rallying against a rich white patriarchal view and operating system of the world, or am I on to something that changes my belief system from this point forward? I think it's just my time to evolve my thinking from where its rested these past twenty or so years. With yoga and other enterprises, my third eye has been woken up and squeegeed off. After a brief break, my dreams are back to their super vivid selves. This has meant a few nightmares, yeah, but when they aren't scary, they're incredible. Lucid dreaming is coming as second-nature now, and I find it easy to get to that deep subconscious interior.


I think my question is this, and I'm asking it here because if I ask my parents, they'll worry I've lost some marbles here in Chicago. Do others realize that the government and social structures of at the very least America are screwing them over every single day of their lives, and therefore choose to ignore it OR do you tuck that knowledge into some corner in the back of their minds and deal with it the best they can. We're giving animals cancer from all the shit we dump in the ocean. Julian Assange blew open a lot of people's thoughts with Wikileaks. UFOs probably exist. There are significant flaws in issues around 9/11 and JFK's assassination. Peak oil might cause the downfall of industrialized society. Shadowy corporations might be secretly ruling us all. Of course all these things are arguable and speculative, but I think only a fool would assume that we, the docile masses, medicated with television and Big Gulps, know everything that happens. Do you know this, and then if you know it, do you care, or do day to day things like paying the mortgage and soccer practice force you to ignore it in lieu of such pressing priorities? Do we ignore until it becomes a reality?

The thing I'm taking comfort in on whatever trip this is that I'm currently riding along on is that this is normal. First we try to change the world, then ourselves. I guess I'm on that changing the world stage, but I don't really see myself as being able to change anything - I just wish more people thought to ask "why?" then submit willingly. At least knowing that things are fucked up allows you some room to asses what is truly important to you and make decisions accordingly as opposed to just going along with things just as they are.

I've been particularly interested in Terence McKenna's theories of novelty and singularity, that so much is happening in our world simultaneously we've reached a point where something has to change. I don't necessarily think we're headed towards an end, or if that end would even be in 2012, but I think changes are afoot because of the technologically advanced society we're living in, one whose marvels increase exponentially on a consistent basis. I certainly couldn't have thought about a computer in your pocket ten years ago. Perhaps everyone in their twenties thinks the world is ending or changing, and this is just my time with it, but I have a feeling in my gut it isn't just me.I'm excited to see if the crackpots, including myself, are right, or we're all laughing with our Y2K party hats on December 21st, 2012.

Have I lost you on the crazy yet? Maybe this ramble will be evidence of my downfall at some later date. BUT...despite all of this gloom and doom discourse, I've also realized everything is connected. All we can really do is try to matter to a handful of people that love us back.That's it. We're all just specks in the universe, and if we're lucky, someone will think of us fondly from time to time. The world went on before us, and it'll go on after us too. Our energy is never destroyed, it just transfers forms. I've always had a sense of premonition, knowing how things will be before they actually happen, so maybe that's just the karma of my past lives working itself. Maybe my recognition of such things is that karma coming into fruition, and I'm the collection of experiences of others whose karma was good enough that in this life, I get to understand it. Don't buy the reincarnation juju? This changed my mind. Thanks, Ian Stevenson.

We probably aren't meant to know about such machinations of life, but goddamnit, it's fun to think about. At least while I have the free time to ponder such questions of existence. 

Blame Bill Hicks, too. Now I'm listening to Tool a lot more because they were friends with Hicks. Who would have thought a dead stand-up comic would alter my worldview for this period of my life, but things happen when they're meant to. This snippet is my current mantra on existence.



Katydid in the City: Bringing the existentialism and paranoia back to your Monday.

...In which our heroine takes a stand.

Friends, I'm really worried. The rash of recent anti-choice laws, including South Dakota's bill to make killing abortion providers a justifiable homicide, Georgia's bill to make miscarriage criminal, and Ohio's bill to make abortion illegal within the first heartbeat of a fetus, as well as Congress' proposed cuts to Planned Parenthood are making me nervous to be a woman of child-bearing age in America.

For most of our beliefs, it's difficult to trace a specific source from which they came. But when it comes to reproductive choice about my own body, the decision was made for me at an early age. I don't remember how old I was when I watched HBO's exploration of abortion, If These Walls Could Talk, but I can tell you I remember the feeling I had after watching this scene in my grandma's basement:


The failed back-alley abortion Demi Moore gets is horrifying to me as a 21-year old, so as a child, it was nightmare inducing for weeks. Watching her struggle to call for help in that pool of blood decided my views on abortion for the rest of my life. There was no morality left in the issue: no woman should ever have to die that way, alone, and scared, simply because she did not want to have a child.

I'll never argue that abortion isn't ending a life, because it is. Abortion stops a life before it begins. But for me, bringing a truly unwanted child into the world is a sin far graver than not giving it that chance. Over Christmas break, my mother and I were watching Teen Mom, and she asked me what I would do. My answer was so honest, I left her speechless. If I found out I was pregnant tomorrow, I would get an abortion because at this stage in my life, I do not have the capacity to care for another life. She asked how I could live with such a decision - wouldn't it haunt me for the rest of my life - and I have no doubt that it would, but still, on a personal level, I have no business having a child right now, so why would I should subject it to a life that it doesn't deserve? Sure, there's adoption but in an overpopulated world, we don't need more unwanted children.

And to the same extent, I totally understand the moral objections to abortion. While I certainly wouldn't call it murder, it isn't as casual as some make it. Prevention is key. With that being said, there can be no legal objection to abortion. Make it illegal, and we go back to a state where women will go to any means necessary to obtain them anyway. Hell, you can walk into any natural foods store and buy a variety of herbs that might cause miscarriage...or dire hemorrhage. Ending the legality of abortion will lead to the deaths of many, many more women than need be.

This isn't even an abortion only issue: 97% of Planned Parenthood's services are non-abortion related, for preventive care for things like birth control and cancer screening, and for 60% of their patients, it's the only medical care they get all year. I have plenty of friends who rely on PP for the pill so they don't need to rely on them for an abortion. Cutting funding means fewer women who can prevent pregnancies, HIV, and cancer, which ultimately means more deaths for women in America.

I am thankful everyday for a world in which pills in varying shades of blue give me the extra reassurance that having sex doesn't have to mean a baby I don't want. And you know what, there have certainly been times that for whatever reason, I have no doubt my access to birth control prevented a pregnancy.  One of the organizers of Columbia's student feminist group, FEMMES, had a shirt that said "I FUCK TO COME, NOT TO CONCEIVE." While (hopefully) most men would be at least concerned that their orgasm could result in unwanted pregnancy, women should be afforded the same luxury that their sexual pleasure shouldn't come at the risk and cost of a child they do not want.

Even if you're against abortion, I would hope you at least would want women to have access to birth control. The last time I went to buy condoms, they were in a locked case. Don't tell me that doesn't deter people from being shamed into not buying them. I highly doubt that any women, once in a cold room, with feet in stirrups, thinks "gee, I'm SO glad I get to be having this abortion when I could be do just about anything else." It's undoubtedly an unpleasant part of life, but if we can prevent abortions with contraception - the very thing Planned Parenthood is trying to do -  we prevent the loss of more life.

It's my body, and my choice whether I want a child or not. I'm scared at what a world where this choice is taken away from me may look like. I'm scared for my fellow women, women who aren't lucky enough like me to have a regular gynecologist and an $8 birth control prescription. A woman shouldn't have to sacrifice sex, the most natural act on earth besides being born and dying, because she's so terrified of what the outcome might be.

So if you like me, or any ladies in your life, which I'm sure you do, please take a minute and sign the petition to make Congress reconsider cutting their federal tax dollars for a preventive care organization. 

I thank you, and my sisters, mothers, friends, nieces, and aunts thank you.

These are scary, scary times folks, and I certainly don't think we should bring more innocent lives into them without them being truly wanted. As my father says, "every child should be a wanted child."

...In which our heroine brings the fun.

Ladies and gentlemen, today I present the late, great Bill Hicks. I like his comedy so much because he certainly adheres to certain moral and social ideas that I support, but also has a real care for humanity. Yeah, he's cynical and jaded, but something about his comedy shows a hope for the ability of humans to make peace. Obviously, these are all vulgar.

Legal drugs vs. illegal drugs


The meaning of life


"I laid in a field of green grass and said, my god, I love everything." This one might be my favorite.


UFOs in Alabama


Christians vs. Dinosaurs


The world of marketing


New Kids on the Block vs. dead rock stars


The total plausibility of the JFK assassination


Gays in the military


"Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Here's Tom with the Weather..."


A little levity for your Saturday.

...In which our heroine is stacked.

Partially inspired by ChemGuy's shelf porn post via CBR...and the fact that I'm currently in a notoriously snowy city who just experienced its second or third largest snowfall ever. I believe this is what they call cabin fever:

The mantle in our living room. We've got some McDonald's toys, some VHS treasures liberated from the laundry room trash can, a couple birthday gifts, and a duo of Ginger Spice Barbies. Most of this stuff is mine, the most recent finds being the California Raisin dude and the New Kids on the Block mug.

My admittedly larger portion of the DVD shelves. Of course they're alphabetized. To the far right on the top shelf is the small collection of Blu-ray discs I've gotten since May. On the second shelf, far left, there's the even smaller Criterion Collection discs (in spine order, duh) then the Kubrick and Alien box sets, then television series, then the oversized Lord of the Rings and The Wizard of Oz box sets.

I needed an overflow bookshelf, so this is the latest addition from IKEA. Mostly this is for oversized books and to-be-reads. The seashells are from my late great-grandmother's windowsill, the Wicked Witch from my other grandmother. The wooden box is where I keep, you know, stuff.

Ah, the top of the regular bookshelf is me at my kitschiest. The postcards are mostly from the wonderful Cassandra, as is Boris, the largest of the anteaters (Connie, the smaller is a recent find), and the decorated cigar box. Some family photos, the coolest Barbie EVER, and some assorted stuffed animals complete the shelf.

Unlike my DVDs, I arrange books by author. Lots of King, Palahniuk, and Klosterman on these top two shelves. The buddhas are from Hawaii, New York, and everywhere in-between. The ladybugs, which are too cool to use as they're meant to be as salt and pepper shakers, are from my grandmother. The Clarice mug is from our Christmas collection, and the Joker/Harvey Dent Pez dispensers are from Bob Evans. I honestly don't know where Mr. Turtle came from...

Big books down here. The Sandman collection, the hardcover King titles, the film books. The hunk o' quartz is from a friend of my momma, and the monkey cup keeps quarters for laundry.

Terribly thrilling, I know. I went outside yesterday and while main roads are cleared, side streets and sidewalks are certainly not. Tuesday night sounded like hellfire and damnation was bearing down on the city.  It really was kind of pretty - for a while at least - especially the drifts in our alley. And now it's grey and disgusting. I think I might be over Chicago winters for a while.

I've watched Jackie Brown (re-watch) and Miller's Crossing in my boredom. Neither of them are my favorite from Mr. Taratino or Mr.'s Coen, but still interesting. This is pretty fantastic, though.

Tarantino vs Coen Brothers from Leandro Copperfield on Vimeo.

As is this, which makes feel compelled to watch Barry Lyndon and Shutter Island, both in the Netflix queue.

Kubrick vs Scorsese from Leandro Copperfield on Vimeo.

Please don't make me choose between those five geniuses, either.

...In which our heroine thanks the Academy, mostly.

Two posts in two days? Insanity. It's almost like I'm back to this whole blogging thing...

Briefly, thoughts on Oscar nominations:

• Christopher Nolan got the shaft for Best Director
• Glad to see that The Social Network didn't get the most nods (8) to The King's Speech (12)
• I always love the supporting categories for surprises: Jacki Weaver for Animal Kingdom and John Hawkes for his absolutely stellar turn in Winter's Bone.
• Really glad to see that film get four nods - I think it's the most wholly American picture of the year.
• Uh, did I miss the part where people actually liked 127 Hours? Six nominations, and all I've heard is middling reviews from friends. James Franco has become a total tool in the press, and I avoided the film not for the arm cutting off, but for the claustrophobia. Can't do it.
• Even stoned, Alice in Wonderland is one of the worst movies I've ever seen, and that was only the first 45 minutes before I turned it off. I guess it deserves the three nods if you like abnormal candy colored vomit.
• Bitiful hasn't done too well critically, so Bardem's nod and Foreign Language film seem odd.
• Gotta see Foreign nominee Dogtooth because apparently it's bat shit crazy.
• Not surprised, but disappointed by only Michelle Williams' nod for Blue Valentine. I think it should have gotten the Best Picture nod over True Grit or 127 Hours, but it's a much more difficult film.
•  Portman, Firth, Bale, and Leo - it's your race to lose.
• AND...best of all, we have THREE female nominees for screenplay: Lisa Cholodenko for The Kids Are All Right, and Debra Granik & Anne Rossellini for Winter's Bone.

I think it could be a surprise year for Best Picture - The Social Network has won most of the critics awards, but The King's Speech leads nominations, and just won the PGA. I'll have a better answer after the SAG, DGA, and WGA. (Black Swan 4EVR!)

In other film related news, Blue Velvet might be coming to Blu ray in America with Lynch's deleted scenes. Will we get to see the four hour cut?! Someone just needs to find all of the deleted stuff from Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me now.

...In which our heroine thinks Bob should have just stayed silent.

Writing films is hard. Assembling a cast, crew, and budget is harder. The actual production? Hell. Oh and then getting people to pay money to see them? Forget it. It's a hard truth for most people who want to make films, something I've learned about from going to film school, and this bit of cynicism comes from someone who has only ever worked on student productions. It isn't an easy business, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool.

I think that's why I'm so bothered by Kevin Smith's comments and spectacular flame out regarding his new independent horror film about fundamentalist Christians playing at Sundance, Red State. The AV Club has a nice recap of what happened, which was essentially a showing of the film to distributors. In the independent world, getting a film to show to distributors to Sundance is a minor miracle - there are 12,000 other submitted films that would have killed to have Smith's two hour chunk of showing and auction.

So Smith showed the film, and then made a mockery of the auction, "by purchasing his own film for $20 with the intent to market and distribute it himself. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I came here 17 years ago [with Clerks],” he said. “All I wanted to do was sell my movie. And I can't think of anything fucking worse, 17 years later, than selling my movie to people who just don't fucking get it'” He then announced plans to do a multi-city tour, involving showings of the film and a "new business model" that includes overpriced tickets and a Q&A with Smith and actors from the film.

Kevin Smith, you're a fucking idiot. The independent business has been moving towards individual distribution, a practice correctly identified by Drew McWeeny as fourwalling, which McWeeny explains as "essentially means paying for a theater rental, then screening the film and keeping whatever admission you charge for yourself." ANY intro to film business class could tell you this is the way to go for 21st century independent distribution. I've gone to two guest lecturers two guest lectures, Robert Kirkman of KNBFX fame, and Kelley Baker, formerly Gus Van Sant's sound designer, and they explained the process in detail. We also talked about it in Script Analysis, Adaptation, Production II, and Screen Treatment & Presentation at length. Maybe you would have known that your "brand new business" model of road shows wasn't brand new if you wouldn't have dropped out of film school.

And the sad thing is, I like Kevin Smith's films for the most part. He's made two great films - Clerks and Chasing Amy - and others to varying mediocrity (Zack and Miri) to drivel (Jersey Girl.) His Q&As about film are great, and entertaining. But at some point, the tweets about Southwest and the ways in which he fucks his wife, and wasting distributors time and effort overshadow the art. It's kind of the reason I can't enjoy Kanye West's music - his public persona simply taints everything else.

The thing that REALLY made me mad was this string of comments by Smith, or at least according to Vulture: "I'm a fat, masturbating stoner. That's why I got into the movie business. I thought that was where fat, masturbating stoners went. And if somebody had told me at the beginning of my career, you're going to have to learn so much about business, finance, amortization, all that shit, monetization, I would have been like, 'Fuck it. I'm just going to stay home and masturbate. That's too much work, man."

You sir, are a dumbass. Anyone who thinks making movies and getting them seen is easy is an uneducated fool. But you know, maybe finishing film school would have alerted Smith that it's not all hockey matches and musical numbers with your pals. Effort is required. I feel insulted that Smith would marginalize filmmakers are "fat, masturbating stoners," because while some of them certainly are, his fat, masturbating, stoned ass took away a spot from someone truly passionate and driven at Sundance. Someone who could have been given a first chance, like Clerks was given a first chance by the Weinsteins. But no, he had to make a spectacle out of a probably shitty movie and deprive them of that chance, just so he could continue to be press fodder.

It's a good thing Hit Somebody is allegedly his last film, because anyone who has become that weary of the business to diminish the effort it takes to make films and kept new filmmakers from achieving their shot doesn't deserve a goddamn dollar from movie-goers anymore. And it's a shame, because Kevin Smith is a good, sometimes great writer, though not a good director. He's certainly soured me for life on him. What a waste, Silent Bob.

Don't just take my word for it, dude has progressed from sometimes dick to lifetime asshole...

• AV Club's take on the situation
• Drew McWeeny's review
• Kevin Smith Implodes - from Deadline Hollywood

...In which our heroine doubles your money.

In case you weren't aware, Chicago had its coldest day since February 2nd, 2009, yesterday. I don't remember that other day - I was still down in the depths of mono, so I probably didn't even leave the dorms - but yesterday we had wind chills around -22 just around the time for my morning commute.

Perhaps the most common question or inquiry I get about Chicago besides the goddamn pizza I don't even like that much is about the weather. "Sure gets cold there, and WINDY!" Yeah, I'm really glad you know that the Windy City moniker comes from...

Guess what? It's Chicago. It gets really fucking cold in the winter. You can't walk around in a North Face and leggings and Uggs and expect to be warm. I saw a girl in bright yellow tights yesterday, and felt absolutely no sympathy for her plight. Put some clothes on! Fashion doesn't matter at any temperature below 15. My outfit yesterday was knee socks, leggings, jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel shirt, a hoodie, a hat, a down parka with its hood up, a wool scarf, and gloves. I may have looked like the kid from A Christmas Story, but damnit, I was toasty.

I dunno, I guess I just get annoyed when people make a big deal about things that are inevitable. Saying Chicago is cold is also like mentioning how corrupt our politics are: everyone knows it already, just leave it alone. Maybe my Midwestern blood is just getting thicker, but I've learned to live with the cold, and I'll still take 20 any day over 95.

End seasonal rant. Begin music business rant.

The National/Arcade Fire show is a hot ticket for Chicago, especially considering all the buzz around Bloodbuzz Ohio and The Suburbs. I've seen both of the bands before, but I skipped out on Girl Talk, and decided I'd buy tickets to this.  There was a band presale that sold out in FIVE FUCKING MINUTES yesterday, so a second show was added.

The first time I saw Arcade Fire - with LCD Soundsystem doing a fantastically danceriffic opening slot - it was in Columbus, at the LC, which is my favorite venue for a show. Tickets were $35 and I had to scramble to give my other one away, eventually settling on Isaac now of Pomegranates fame. It was October but it was still like 90 degrees, and we experienced rock n' roll church, with reverend Win Butler.

Cut to four years later. Arcade Fire is headlining Coachella, and suddenly everyone's favorite indie rockers. I'm really not trying to play the "I was there at the beginning!" card, but I was. The frustrating thing about indie rock now is that the proliferation of so many bands forces one to really have to pick and choose what to listen to. The internet is a great and terrible thing when it comes to independent music - with so much accessibility to free music, it becomes impossible for me to listen to everything.

As a result, you get a lot of shitty little buzz bands that Pitchfork likes and have funny Twitter accounts selling out show. That would have never happened in pre-internet days. So while it's good for struggling musicians, I definitely think there's an issue when it comes to quality control of said bands.

As for the tickets themselves, which everyone got themselves so worked up about yesterday, my $69 Ticketmaster purchase was done by 11:01. Coming from the school of my mother, who I watched spend hours calling Ticketmaster back when it was a phone system to get tickets, I've learned that if you want tickets for a show, you're fucking up at 10AM hitting refresh on the ticket buying screen until you can purchase. You have a pre-made account so you don't have to deal with remembering that stupid little code on the back of your credit card. You want the tickets, you be ready to get them.

Because of that, I've never missed tickets for a show. Some things, I let my own negligence get the better of me and just waited too long, but I genuinely do not understand why some people don't just get up and get their tickets as soon as they go on sale. I got GA, which rules because no one really wants chair seats for a show like that. You want tickets, you make sweet love to that refresh button until you get them.

And that friends, is your Penny Lane/Hagen family groupie skill set for the day...

Despite this 2 for the price of 1 rant, I'm in a really great mood today. This week, I did a month's worth of laundry, got Peapod delivered, fell in love with M Burger, found two of my books for school in PDF form, bought a "water pipe for smoking tobacco out of," had dinner with the ladies, got too drunk watching the Golden Globes, and didn't have to spend the coldest night of winter alone. Hopefully, this good mood carries over into next week when...da dun dun...school starts again. Only two semesters left in Chicago, insanity.

...In which our heroine picks flicks for 2010.

After watching The Social Network (meh) this afternoon, I feel that I've adequately seen enough films to make a top ten for the year 2010. I don't know if 2009 or 2010 was a worse year, but I do know there's a void in compelling films coming from major studios. I mean really, "The Social Network is the Citizen Kane of its generation?" Spare me.

But as always, there are some films of merit, and a lot of things I really enjoyed. Honorable mentions for The Kids Are All Right and True Grit which both fell apart at the end, but still both worth a watch.

10: The King's Speech - Directed by Tom Hooper
This film could have slid into the familiar trappings of WWII melodrama, but thanks to Colin Firth, Helena Bonham Carter, and Geoffrey Rush and their spectacular performances, it's a story about a man with a problem, and what he does to fix that problem. Clean, human, and lovely. Also points for giving my grandmother something to enjoy.

9: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World - Directed by Edgar Wright
Despite loving Edgar Wright's first two films, I stayed clear of this like the plague thanks in no small part to Michael Cera. It really pleasantly surprised me, with the idea of the shallowness of modern relationships mixed with 64-bit Nintendo glory. I know, I know Chemguy, I need to read the comics, but this was my favorite film in terms of visual inventiveness.

8: Kick-Ass - Directed by Matthew Vaughn
This did in fact kick the superhero genre in the ass, and its rude, crude lewdness was gorgeous. Hit Girl was one of my favorite characters of the year, and I love all that Vaughn did with a $25 million, independently financed film. And it had a good heart - that scene with Big Daddy killed me.

7: Somewhere - Directed by Sofia Coppola
While its my least favorite of her films, I still loved that Coppola made a movie about very little except character idiosyncrasies. Somewhere is the epitome of why people hate "art" films, but I think its important to remember that not everything needs to be cities folding on top of each other. Makes me want to go to California. Strong performances from the normally tabloid-headline Stephen Dorff and angelic little Elle Fanning.

6: The Fighter - Directed by David O. Russell
I had NO expectations for this, and it blew me away. Christian Bale gives an even better performance than Patrick Bateman, and it was an underdog story that didn't feel predictable or preachy. Plus, it's a better movie than the buncha fawckin' queeahs in The Town. And way to give women some meaty parts. I'd love to see Melissa Leo or Amy Adams win the Oscar.

5: Winter's Bone - Directed by Deborah Granik
Best depiction of rural America in years, and a stunning lead female character in a female made film. The AV Club mentioned that this felt like a 1970s film, just like Blue Valentine, in the best way possible. And, as FilmDrunk says, it has one of the most metal scene in recent memory.

4: Inception - Directed by Christopher Nolan
I totally get that this wasn't the best character development in a film, but I was just so glad to have a movie to argue about intellectually. My view of the ending changed with each viewing, each clue. The script was awesomely written, to take such a clever concept and turn it into a huge blockbuster. And it was gorgeousss.

3: Toy Story 3 - Directed by Lee Unkrich
Nothing made me cry this year besides this film, and in buckets. Fucking Pixar does it again. I think it's a lot harder to make a film that appeals to 8 year-olds and 80 year-olds as opposed to a strictly adult film. I was five when Toy Story came out, and the films mean more to me now then they ever did then. Could they have ended on a more perfect note?

2: Blue Valentine - Directed by Derek Cianfrance
It's Cassavetes for the millennial set. I can't think of a film that better nails the subtle agony and ecstasy of relationships. I especially hooked in to Ryan Gosling's Dean, who feels like every guy I've ever been infatuated with, as countered only by Williams' practical Cindy who just can't say no. The non-linear editing worked so well to show the conception and disintegration of their relationship in perfect, heartbreaking detail.

1: Black Swan - Directed by Darren Aronofsky
I'm an Aronofsky fan through and through, and this is my favorite of his films. On a budget of $12 million, amazing things happened with costuming, music, set design, and Libatique's cinematography. It's the perfect dark, sexual take on fairy tales of being a beautiful dancer that every little girl has. The Fly, for women. Natalie Portman just nailed the duality of Nina, and the supporting roles of Vincent Cassel, Winona Ryder, Mila Kunis, and Barbara Hershey were perfect as well. I chose Black Swan based on watch-ability - I've already seen it twice, and I'll can't wait to watch it again. While Blue Valentine is a remarkable film, it's too tough a watch to sit through constantly. What more can I say, I just loved this film.

...In which our heroine makes a comparison.

Failing miserably at this whole long form blogging thing. That's probably a bad sign considering the amount of time I spend on Twitter and Tumblr in relation to my attention span, and I'm a writer for fuck's sake, but I've half written lots of posts and then decided they aren't worth it.

I'm in a bit of a rut that always happens when school isn't going on. There's lots to say about being home and my poor mother's broken pelvis and the Anchor Grill and the infinite amounts of cooking shows I watched and, shocker - men, but nothing of true merit on any of them. See, it's a goddamn rut.

I promise to have a ten best films list this week, as soon as I complete my 2010 viewing with Blue Valentine, Exit Through the Gift Shop, and begrudgingly, The Social Network. This week, I promise.

But for today, I just have some of a couple who I'm identifying far too much with right now: Joan Holloway and Roger Sterling. They're complicated, Ben and I are complicated. There's love, there's a total absence of love. On again. It's just sex. It's more than just sex. Off again. It's the indecision that's making me mad. The convenient trysts, the underlying connection, the will they or won't they nonsense, an unavoidable past. It's kind of my life at this moment, except for the cool clothes and dual marriages and whole secret love child thing.

"Since when is loyalty a better quality than forgiveness?" - Christ, that one hurts, even though it isn't in the proper context. Doesn't the loyalty inform the forgiveness?



"I'll think of everything that happened the night I got it."- Or probably better, "You've crossed the border from lubricated to morose."



Can't even embed the clips I want, grrr.

"I hear the fins are bigger next year." - Because nothing says keeping it on the down low like eating meals in the bedroom.

"You can do anything with it except put it on the radiator." - Misplaced gestures of affection, and saying so much with nothing.

"I'm not a solution to your problems. I'm another problem." - I should listen to Joan's advice better, and stop being "a port from the storm."

Sometimes it's this.  This is good.

Even this is good.

A lot of times, we exist somewhere around here.

Nobody likes this place, but we're there sometimes.

I think this is where I'd like to end up. Maybe. Who knows.

...In which our heroine is tough as nails.

 I've always struggled to balance my femininity with liking "boys stuff." There was this article from Cinematical about a month ago, and I totally identified with the little girl being teased for having a Star Wars lunch box. I'll trade a zombie movie over a chick flick any day.

It's taken me this long, 21 years, to realize liking "boys stuff" is just fine and a lot of boys quite appreciate when a pair of boobs can out gross them. In my always male dominated film classes, I always make it a point to bring up something totally perverse within the first few classes - in Production I, I brought up how Patrick Bateman walks around with a severed head on his dick in week two, and suddenly, I had the respect of my male peers. Obviously there's a larger problem that I have to prove myself to said males, but I digress.

There is one aspect of my life where am I totally, unabashedly beauty obsessed. While most days require a five-minute make-up, blow dry, and a pair of jeans, my nails are always impeccable. This practice comes from my mother - hers were always lovely, and she instilled in me that nice nails say something about a woman, what she does, what she cares about. These are the things she told me when she'd do my nails when I was little.

Being well-manicured (and pedicured too, but not as much of a priority) is one of my favorite beauty rituals. My roommates make fun of me for how much time I spend, my OCD about even the smallest chip, but for me, impeccable nails always make me feel pretty, somehow put together. Even working at Bob Evans or operating film cameras didn't keep me from keeping them long, always polished.

Perhaps it is an old school tradition, one that screams housewifery and antiquated values, but it's my thing. And it takes a lot of goddamn work: filing, base coat, three coats of color, and one top coat after each color. And all for at most, ten days of perfection. Then start from scratch. Nevermind mishaps, like slamming my right ring finger in my dad's car door, thus the left hand photo...

But I love the ritual. It's girly, it's my mother, and now it's mine. Professional mani-pedis GROSS me the fuck out. Someone else's tools and polish? No thanks. I'll stick to the DIY attitude.

So while I may still like boys stuff, and use the ten impeccable manicured nails to break up "tobacco," or load film, or assemble bookshelves, I'll always have nice hands doing it. To me, nothing says I care about my appearance like well-done nails because we use our hands always, and to keep them perfect shows care. I've been asked many times if my nails are fake, which is about the best compliment I could get.

Favorite products? Nail Magic for base coat. OPI ideally for polish, but it's expensive so I also like Sally Hansen Complete Salon Manicure, and Hard as Nails if I'm going on the cheap. Shades of red, pink, and coral only, except for toes. None of that novelty multi-color shit, or porn star french tips. And then for top coat, Sally Hansen's Insta-Dri Top Coat, which really does dry in about a minute. It's my favorite beauty product ever...except for Smith's Rosebud Salve.

The snow is falling like forgiveness...

...In which our heroine has recent raves.

I consume a lot during the semester. Things you should observe, in a sentence or two:

Films-
Black Swan better get Natalie Portman her goddamn Oscar - a beautifully shot, perverse fairy tale, like a female version of The Fly.
Cronos is Guillermo del Toro's first film, and really yucky and sweet, a good companion to The Devil's Backbone and Pan's Labyrinth. Currently on Criterion Blu and streaming in Netflix HD.
Whip It is a much better movie than it should be - well-written, decently acted - and hey, who doesn't like badass roller-derby foxes?
The Lovely Bones is a shitty adaptation of a really great book, and a waste of the talent within.
John Waters: This Filthy World is a delightful, raunchy trip through film and his own personal history.
I Love You, Beth Cooper wasn't as adorable as the book, but definitely not as bad of a movie as reviews would have it.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 is infinitely better than the last two films, and made me get back into that world wholeheartedly. NERD.

Music-
It's kind of pathetic that it's the end of the year, and I don't have a favorite album of original music. Really pathetic, actually.
All Day, Girl Talk's latest phantasmagoria, is pretty excellent, though I don't think as good as Feed the Animals. My favorite mash-up is Rihanna + Fugazi.
Jeff Mangum might play with the Elephant 6 collective, maybe, but of course I have to grab a ticket just in case.
Jim James in Louisville the day after Christmas needs to happen for me.

Books-
The Things They Carried is an amazing collection of war stories, but an even more amazing collection of human stories.
Ishmael could be alternately titled the bible for "hippie granola living," but made me question some of my very core beliefs.
Touching from a Distance, a post-script on Joy Division's Ian Curtis by his widow Deb, makes him out to be such an asshole I haven't listened to his music since.
Natural Health, Natural Medicine is a good practical guide to living healthier without suggesting seaweed for every meal and nine hours of yoga a day.
Eating the Dinosaur is more brilliance from hipster everyman, Chuck Klosterman. You should check it out for the Primer/time travel/Shane Carruth essay, ChemGuy.
The Books of Blood 1-3 collection lost my interest after book 1, but maybe I'll finish it.
Currently, there's the interview collection, Lynch on Lynch.

TV-
The Walking Dead had a really compelling, if uneven, first season, that needed a better finale.
Boardwalk Empire totally lost me, despite the gratuitous sex and violence.
Eastbound & Down had a lesser second season than first, but the finale was perfectly touching and hilarious.
Winter is coming to HBO in the form of A Game of Thrones in April. So excited to see what they do with the most well-written fantasy books ever.
And the ladies of Cathouse, who espoused the essential life lesson of "No Romance Without Finance," will be back for a new season.
Still have to watch the Twin Peaks homage episode of Psych.
Glee's writing has gotten lazy, and infuriating.

Etc.-
Tumblr really needs to get its shit together and stop crashing.
DVD sale at Facets Cinematheque tomorrow and Sunday with $10 Criterions and out-of-print discs - it's a must.
New tattoo photos soon, I promise, especially since I'm modeling it for my friend Abby today.
Two parties today, two parties tomorrow, and it's finals week. Give my liver strength.
New favorite beer: Pacifico.
Year in Photos from Life Magazine - lots of fantastic photos.
The AV Club fucked up.
Managed to write a term paper on Twin Peaks, adapt a Stephen King short, pitch the teen girl sex comedy, and have an instructor tell me to grow my own pot this semester, not bad.

Nothing like a little This Mortal Coil to cheer you up...

...In which our heroine is grateful.

I left for Cincinnati early last Tuesday, for a 7:00 AM bus. On the cab ride, the sun was just rising over Lake Shore Drive, reflecting off of the buildings, particularly well in my favorite spot of the city, just over the Chicago river. I was exhausted, but I felt so overwhelmed by how grateful I was for my city, to be going home, to see my friends. I was overwhelmed at how lucky I was to have such oppurtunities.

The feeling of exception gratitude carried throughout the week. I had a beer with my grandmother, and got whipped cream smashed in my face at El Rancho Grande for my birthday. That night, Josh came over and we had stoned conversation with my mom about chupacabras. My dad made a list of all of the Youtube videos he couldn't wait to show me. I got a tattoo - a photo of which is forthcoming, pending healing - with my very best friend in the world for 15 years, Kara.

On Thanksgiving, prompted by going through our own family photos, I got my aunt and grandmother to go through a box of my great-grandmother's photos, also forthcoming. I saw baby photos of my dad, my great-great grandparents in the holler of Hazard, Kentucky. After my cousins and I took a plate of food to my grandmother's neighbors, Jim and Tammy, I learned that they met after he rescued her from a concentration camp in WWII, and she agreed to marry him only if he agreed to bring her mother to America as well. Viall and I braved Black Friday crowds to much success, and I visited Bob Evans, with Jeannie telling me she missed me.

But Saturday - Saturday was a big day. I saw Paul for the first time in two years.

On the way down, Nate told me all I needed to give was a wink wink nudge nudge and we could exit, but I was determined to see my friends. I wasn't going to let him stop me, again, from being happy. We had been there about an hour before he arrived, and before even getting through the door, Matt had told him to leave me the fuck alone. His hand on my shoulder, I felt overwhelmed at him stepping up for me. Throughout the evening, my friends, some better than others, some who knew more than others, came up and said how well they thought I was handling things. It was odd - I was a little drunk, so my judgment may have been a little off - but Paul was just a person. Admittedly, a very troubled, obviously substance using person, but just a person. I kept catching him giving me the eye, walking in front of me, but I never said anything. I've said everything I needed to say to him.

I had great talks with old friends - Aaron, Flo, Dani, Matt, Nate, Katelyn, Kara, Paige - and I honestly could have cried with how overwhelmed I was at the love in the room.  Paul was there, but they talk to me, told me how proud they were of me, thanked me for coming. Here I was, seeing the person that hurt me the worst of anyone, and I couldn't be sad - I simply felt too loved. It was an amazing thing, and a perfect end to a great week home. After high school, I got a bit bitter about time spent with people I shouldn't have, but Saturday, all I felt was grateful.

I don't know if I'll see Paul again, and while I wish him no ill will, I can say his present circumstances are precisely what he deserves. Nate told me I won the battle, not the war, and he told me he was both glad and surprised things went as well as they did. No tears, no punches thrown. Did I want to see Paul? No. But as Andie says to her father, right before the prom in Pretty in Pink, a quote I have always looked to in the face of adversity, "I just wanted to let him know he didn't break me." He didn't.

There aren't enough words to describe how lucky and loved I felt this past week. We spend so much time thinking about the negative, I just wanted to take a moment to talk about the positives. I just registered my very first screenplay with the Writer's Guild of America, turned in my second draft of my Stephen King adaptation, saw Patti Smith today, and am giving advice to a Screenwriting II class tomorrow. Next week, I'll submit a screenplay to Columbia's screenwriting contest, and then my family will visit for their annual Christmas jaunt.

This might be too cheerful, too optimistic, but I just feel so blessed for all of these good things in my life. For you. For all you do. Tomorrow I might bitch about the 10 degree windchill, or my itchy tattoo, but I love it, all of it.

And like Mr. Ferris Bueller, I just wanted to make sure I took a moment to stop and look around for a moment at this too fast moving life of mine, and all of the wonderful people in it.

...In which our heroine is finally, officially legal.

There'll be more photos to follow, but that was my first legal drink, the ever-classy combination of Malibu rum and pineapple juice, from Jake's Pub last night.

Your trusty heroine is twenty-one years old. And I got carded twice last night! Made me feel good about myself. It's a weird feeling something that's forbidden is now everywhere.

By some gift from the universe, I'm not even hungover today! After the redheaded slut which I really just think was Jager and tequila, it was a rough moment, but I survived the evening without even a headache.  More drinks with Julia at lunch.

21! WOOOO.

...In which our heroine presents her guide winter watching.

2010 is the worst year I can ever remember for movie-going. Right now, my top five is something like Kick-Ass, Winter's Bone, Toy Story 3, Inception, and ... Yeah, it's that terrible of a year. I'm being crumedgeondly about things like The Social Network, but if a Facebook movie is the best Hollywood can do, then I'm all good sticking to Netflix.

But that doesn't mean that the awards season doesn't bring things to look forward to. With that, I present Katydid's Guide to Winter Films.

November 26th - The King's Speech
I adore Colin Firth, and A Single Man was one of my favorite films from last year. I definitely have to be in the mood for these haughty period British movies, but the winter is the time that generally puts me in that mindset. I also love Helena Bonham-Carter and Geoffrey Rush. Should be a winner. 



December 3rd - Black Swan 
All in all, despite some missteps, I really love the diversity of story in Darren Aronofsky's work. The film festival reviews on this have been a little mixed, and I think this trailer gives too much away, but  Natalie Portman as a ballerina trying to succeed Winona Ryder? So there.


I Love You, Philip Morris
It's really a shame Jim Carrey doesn't get a chance to do more drama, because he's so damn good at it. I've honestly been reading about this movie for about, oh, three years, because it's had a really difficult time finding distribution. The story its based on, which is true, is pretty fascinating.


December 10th - The Fighter
Speaking of actors who need more dramatic work, let's talk about Marky Mark. There's a moment in this scene, from Boogie Nights, in a long take when it's just his face on the couch that blows my mind every time. It's remarkable acting, and yet he does shit 99% of the time. The Fighter, which has also gone through years of development hell, looks promising. And we get creepy-skinny cracked out Christian Bale, Amy Adams, and a Jersey Shored-Melissa Leo. I smell Oscar nods.



December 17th - Tron Legacy 
Tron Legacy is this year's Avatar for me - I'm not expecting much, except some awesome visuals, the Daft Punk score, and some beardy delightful Jeff Bridges. This is a dream movie for stoners everywhere.



Rabbit Hole 
Nicole Kidman hasn't done a goddamn thing for me as an actress since To Die For fifteen years ago. She bores me. BUT, I do love me some Aaron Eckart, and some Dianne Wiest. This film is directed by John Cameron Mitchell, who rose to prominence with his first infamous film, Hedwig & the Angry Inch, then topped it with real actors having real sex in Shortbus, which is one of the best films about love and relationships I've ever seen. So I'll deal with some non-moving porcelain faced Kidman, it's a concession I'm willing to make.


December 22nd - Somewhere
Sofia Coppola is my favorite working filmmaker, along with Paul Thomas Anderson. There are better filmmakers, but as a woman who wants to be in the industry, I worship her style and vision as an auteur. Again, the reviews have been mixed on this film from the festivals, but I'll be there the day it opens. Anyone who can look at Stephen Dorff and think "lead in at arthouse film shot at the Chateau-Marmont" has fucking commitment.


True Grit
Blood Simple, Raising Arizona, The Big Lebowski, The Hudsucker Proxy, No Country for Old Men, Fargo, Burn After Reading, A Serious Man, Barton Fink, Miller's Crossing, O Brother Where Art Thou - I really think the Coen Brothers might be consistently the best filmmakers of the past thirty years. Nobody else has that many fantastic films, and True Grit just looks amazing. And the Dude is playing the John Wayne part? Cannot fucking wait.


December 31st - Blue Valentine
I'm really concerned for this film. It just got an appeal to get its NC-17 rating, the kiss of death for commercial releasing, kept, meaning it'll play about 500 screens across the country. Chop heads off, but don't have something resembling real sex - good job, MPAA. Fuckers. I'm all about exploratory films about relationships, a la Cassavetes, and this seems like a good one. The buzz out of Cannes and Sundance has been great, and you really can't do better than Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams for actors of their generation. Getting my tissues ready.


I'm definitely most excited for the last three on this list, and I hope Cincinnati has enough foresight to play them while I'm at home. Doubtful for Blue Valentine. But these are my recommendations for what I think is worth seeing in the months to come, just another baby film snob, take them for what they're worth.

...In which our heroine is in the right place.

This is my first Chicago Halloween that didn't didn't make a massive kerplunk sound. I should be writing claims and subclaims for my exploration of Lynch's auteur style in Twin Peaks, but I owe you and myself a check-in.  Hello - how have you been? How fucking great was The Walking Dead tonight? SO GREAT. Really scary, and really well-shot. I would be worried about the sustainability, but since I hear the comics give lots of rich source material, I'm less concerned. Also - way to cut off the end of Dawn of the Dead, AMC. Dorks.

Today I'm talking about Halloween and music, and memory. It's a Halloween post, but not really.

It was party time at the residence last night. Alyssa seriously was the best costume - a giant pot leaf - but Grace as Misty from Pokemon was pretty legit as well. We had about thirty people show up, and after a lot of whiskey apple cider and much due revelry, the stragglers started to abandon ship. Ben was the first one to get here, before we were even dressed, because he was working early and leaving early. Well, guess who was the last one sitting on my couch at three in the morning. Predictable unpredictability. Look who magically got their shift changed.

We were always trading music, giving songs to each other, sharing what we loved. He gave me Neutral Milk Hotel, Animal Collective, My Bloody Valentine, etc. - I gave him Pixies, The Cure, Neil Young. And there he was again, stealing Horses and other things off of iTunes. We listened to Meadowlands by the Wrens, then Monsters of Folk, then Since I Left You by the Avalanches. I'd never heard the first and the third albums, and now their mine.

Last night solidified something for me. "The Right Place" by Monsters of Folk came on and I really listened to the lyrics, and thought about this boy in my bed. This boy who I loved so my freshman year, the answer to my everything...and how different I felt. I'll always love him a little bit, but something about that song made me realize that I'm in the right place. I watched him sleep this morning, and nothing about him made me want to leap into his arms, proclaim my love, worship him. He's just a boy, imperfect and perfect just like everyone else. I'm so far away from the person I was two Halloweens ago, when we got busted smoking pot in his dorm room I can't believe it. We've moved into a comfortable place where it isn't just awkward glances at parties any more, but it isn't doing our grocery shopping together either. It's the right place.

Yes, I know sleeping with my ex-boyfriend is probably not the smartest choice I could be making, but it's my choice. I keep getting warned about falling back in love, how it always get messy, but listening to that song, watching him sleep, I realized it might get messy and it might not, but for that moment, I was in the right place. My roommates made me feel pretty shitty about it this morning, well one did, who said I "should work out another arrangement," but she made me realize too that her maturity just isn't in the same place as mine, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Maybe it's meditation with yoga, but I'm in this really clear headspace where I'm finding that things will happen, and we can make them happen or not, but mostly they just happen to us. And most of them aren't worth freaking out about. It isn't worth worrying about your roommate's arrangement or whether you just missed the goddamn train. Just let it go, let it sink into the floor with savasana, the corpse pose for meditation, and breathe. People will come into your life and go out of it, so why not appreciate them while they're around? Why does it all have to mean something greater? Just enjoy the moments you have.

Halloween has been a major holiday for me since I realized it was a holiday - I enjoy it more than Christmas - and there's always been a pull and a power to this time of fall for me. Maybe that's just the hippie bullshit head trip I'm on right now, but damnit, I'm on it, and I'm in the right place.

There will be boys and songs and parties and Halloweens yet to come. The past is past, and what comes is better than what came before. All I do is smile in this moment about the fucking horrendous paper I still have to write because it's just a paper I won't remember six months from now. But what I will remember are the songs, the music, and the comfort of Ben's arms around me so tight then, so tight again. It could happen again, it couldn't, but worrying about it either way doesn't take the place of how good the songs are, or how nice it is to have his glasses on my nightstand occasionally.

Is this a weird post? Do you need to know this? I need to confess this, because there's no need for me to feel like a bad person (cough roommates cough), and I feel like putting these thoughts out into the black hole of the internet is easier than telling them to people, because here, I can just talk and be judged silently or not at all. They're my choices, of an almost twenty-one year old living in Chicago with a predilection towards zombies, chai tea, and obsessive pop culture saturation. My choices, to live and deal with as I please. But it always helps to write them down, to give a voice to the thoughts in my head.

Cause I like where I’m livin’, and I like what I do, and I like what I’m seein’ when I’m lookin’ at you. I still like what I’m saying when I open my face. I think I got the right feeling. I think I’m in the right place. I think I got the right feeling. I think I’m in the right place. 

 The Ladies of Mad Men: Betty Draper, Joan Holloway, and Peggy Olson

...In which our heroine is kind of a big deal.

Over the summer, we found out at CCAP we'd won a $1 million grant over the next four years to provide technology programs in some of our community schools. Because we've had $600,000 cut from our budget this year, the grant was a huge boon for us, and provided lots of happiness in the office after ten people were laid off.

In addition to this bit of good news, we also got, and I quote, a major award: the 2010 National Arts and Humanities Youth Program Award, presented to us by Michelle Obama. Our executive director David, Herzl Elementary resource coordinator Rachel, and head of community schools April were in DC to accept it, as well as one of our students.

It was, I believe, our sixth year applying for the award, and we were picked as one of only 15 recipients. We watched the live stream this morning, complete with fist pump from the First Lady when our name was announced, and celebrated with cupcakes.

The Chicago Tribune wrote about us. The first lady gave us a plaque. We're kind of a big deal.

UPDATE: Now with photos!

Of all the great things Columbia and Chicago have given me, I think my work with CCAP might just be the greatest.

PS - I'm dying for not being at the five-night, discography spanning My Morning Jacket shows at Terminal 5 in New York this week. DYINGGG. They dressed Pooch in a leisure suit for chrissakes!

...In which our heroine celebrates a milestone.

It's my 250th post. I should have something profound to say. I do not. Instead, here are eleven of my favorite scenes from my eleven favorite films.

Almost Famous - Cameron Crowe, 2000


The Sweet Hereafter - Atom Egoyan, 1997


Blade Runner - Ridley Scott, 1982


Blue Velvet - David Lynch, 1986


A Woman Under the Influence - John Cassavetes, 1974


Boogie Nights - Paul Thomas Anderson, 1997


Leon - Luc Besson, 1994


Lost in Translation - Sofia Coppola, 2003


True Romance - Tony Scott, 1993


The Big Lebowski - The Coen Brothers, 1998


Evil Dead II - Sam Raimi, 1987

...In which our heroine has only one thing.

COULD THIS LOOK ANY FUCKING BETTER? I MEAN, REALLY.

...In which our heroine provides the necessary updates.

See, I told you updates would be sporadic. If you could see the mountain of laundry in my closet, you would understand these things. While I LOVE my apartment, the hour and a half total it takes me commuting every day really does make me have to plan my time much more effectively. But I have an hour before I have to leave for yoga, so let's play ketchup.

Speaking of the devil, yoga is the best thing I've taken up in a while. Every part of my body feels better, especially my brain. It's affecting how I sit, how I stand, how I sleep. At points during the week my joints will pop or I'll feel a muscle I didn't know existed, and it's wonderful. I can even buy into some of the spiritual aspects of it. WHO AM I? A baby hippie. My teacher Nadine is really awesome, and makes things really approachable and works with everyone on their specific body needs. The coolest thing I can do so far is stand with my feet spread, then bend at the waist and touch my head to the floor. The next part of that pose? Standing on your head.

I'm pretty happy with all of my other classes, actually all of them except my television class, but I get to spend the semester on a term paper about Twin Peaks so it isn't all bad. Adaptation is incredibly laid back and my professor is a legit filmmaker. I'm finally working on my teenage girl sex comedy, called Mantises for the moment, in Screen Treatment & Presentation, in which my ten minute pitch went well this week. I have this terrible ability to be able to just fucking wing it when I pitch and still sound good, which is not smart. Preparation, not perspiration. Peace Studies is like story time, only the stories are about the fundamental human questions in yourself. No big deal.

Our hot and hilarious neighbor Logan moved out this week but he left us some great stuff. We now have 5 more chairs including every stoner's delight, a mushroom chair, a big area rug for the living room, a new DVD cart, the cinema tour de force Hollywood Hineys 19 on VHS (!), and five bottles of the finest alcohol that can be bought for eight dollars. All three of us totally had a crush on him, and there are some gross DePaul girls moving in, so I'm sad. Their first question to us was "So do guys like, have like, sick parties here?" Barf.

And there's a new boy, but with complications. Will is my friend Steve's roommate: 23, film major graduating in January, from the suburbs, working on Ride Along which will be on Fox this winter. I like him - he's charming and very kind, not an asshole, not a drunk or a degenerate drug addict. Cool, great. But the boy is shy. Painfully shy. He drove me home Thursday night, and since we've been flirty for a while, I asked him out. To this, he pulled his baseball hat over his eyes and said only, "yeah, sure," then left like a bat out of hell. It isn't that he's not interested, Steve took care of that question mark for me, but he has no idea how to deal with a real, live female like most of his film school brethren. We've been doing a month or so of flirtation, and I'm impatient. Will graduates in January and is moving back to the 'burbs, so it begs the question if its even worth my time at all - I really don't see him magically developing social skills during this week, so if I have to be the aggressive one, should I even pursue something that'd be over in three months? All of this just further proves my theory I need to fulfill Beth Harding's prophecy and date someone older. Someone who has their shit together and has maybe touched boobs or gone on a date in their lifetime. I feel like a terrible person, but I can only be so forward.

I only have two full books to read before Wednesday, awesome! All of my cool pop cultural finds now live on tumblr, so pardon the lack of them on here. This is ramble-only space now. But it's OCTOBER, meaning fall, meaning my absolute favorite time of year. Music Box Massacre 6 - 24 hours of horror movies at the uber-cool Music Box Theatre - is next weekend, but I'm just content to watch all the cheeseball shit on AMC, TCM, and the local channels. Did I mention SIX WEEKS from tomorrow I will be TWENTY-ONE YEARS OF AGE? Festivities are already being planned. Halloween is looking like Hit Girl from Kick-Ass. I always miss being at home during this time of year - fall does something to me that brings all of these new exciting possibilities to the surface for me. And I really fucking love Halloween. And my birthday. And cardigans. And pumpkin-things, accompanied by cream cheese.

Yes, I do in fact enjoy this version of "I Put a Spell on You," and the video is footage of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, which may well be the first zombie movie. Deal.