...In which our heroine wraps things up.

Yesterday was: red and fuzzy, from a new sweater.
The best batch of biscuits and gravy I've ever made.
My Production II teacher still hating my final film. Me not giving a shit and accepting the B from that class.
Dancing with Heidi to "Lovefool" while we made breakfast for dinner.
Hugging everyone profusely.
Turning from a sophomore to a junior. 
The end of another era.
Brainstorming about Big Art.
Walking home with the object of affection. Talking about Mad Men, specifically Joan.
Talking about high school drinking. Laughing at my roommate, drunk for the first time.
Cheeks flushed red from being cold, standing over a hot stove, and being infatuated, all at different times.
A cryptic message from a boy at 4AM that I gave only a hazy, semi-conscious response to. 
Watching classmates role cigarettes in rainbow papers during class.
Talking about important things, like which Pokemon is the cutest (Dratini).
Finding out your RA also had a Dolly Parton Barbie as a child. 
One of those wonderful days, where you sit back and smile and forget about all the horrible things because you're just happy that there are people in your life you love, and who love you back.

...In which our heroine returns to proper form.

Let's ramble, shall we?

I just saw a delightfully adorable photo of a Boston Terrier in a Santa Hat. It never ceases to amaze me how I can draw equal pleasure from both zombies gnawing on human flesh or a cute baby animal. That makes me nostalgic for Odin's Word, and thinking of Cute Overload. I've been adhering to Sylvia Plath's wisdom lately of taking baths so hot you can only edge in one foot at a time. I don't understand - I hate being hot any other time, but I love hot baths. Last night it was hot to the point that I almost made myself pass out. I listened to "Nights in White Satin" in the dark bathroom and thought wintery thoughts. As much as I hate hate hate Christmas music, I'll listen to "Last Christmas," yes that "Last Christmas" by Wham! any day of the year. Heidi read my tarot cards in several variations tonight which never ceases to amuse me. I don't believe in god, but for some reason I listen to some colorful pieces of cardboard. I got the death card in every reading, which is actually not so bad. The words attached are things like "rebirth, new beginnings, desire, moving on."Another book she has talked about how the power card for Scorpios is death is not the end, but only a chance for resurrection. And somehow death is tied to Scorpios because we're the most sexual of the zodiac, to which the only connection I can make one Neil Gaiman short story talks about how the French call an orgasm la petite morte: the little death, and I suppose they're mostly right. I always liked that phrase or the other French phrase Mr. Gaiman taught me, l'espirit d'escaliers, the spirit of the staircase, meaning you remember the exact right thing to say as soon as you leave the party. I've had many of those nights. Tonight I ate an all-time Hall of Fame Chipotle burrito that had the perfect amount of corn salsa, but just a little too much cheese. John, it's a nice thought that you're telling me all I need is love right now, but terribly impractical. BUT, my finals are nearly done. I put finishing touches on my film today, and I'm a mere sound mix away from never having to shoot another film on a Bolex, although they are very cool cameras. Someone told me Columbia got the very last shipment of VHS tapes, in addition to owning the very last Bolexes. That "exes" looks weird in the last sentence. As people talk about Tiger Woods and Brian Kelley, I realize how little I care about sports. This shouldn't be a surprise, but then again, I haven't seen a movie in theaters in two months, which seems insane for a film major. The Cranberries on shuffle, the song takes me to 1995, Q102, Target parking lot, holding my new stamp shoe Barbie. Emily and I have been binging on 90s music this whole fall, crap from our childhoods that isn't any good, like Third Eye Blind, but then again neither is 80s music and I love that. I've been exploring Tumblr accounts lately - they start frequently with "fuck yeah" and end with "Christina Hendricks," or "beards," or my personal favorite, "beards and bacon." It never ceases to amaze me how much time people spend on the internet, because I know how much time I spend, which is too much, and they spend far more. In seven days, I will be a junior in college. I was at Big Art last night, and Joe told me to stay in college forever, and I nodded, smiled, because he is so damn cute and not nineteen. A man, not another silly boy. Motorhead, alright shuffle, I see we're behaving badly tonight. Skip. Now "Material Girl." Yes, Madonna, I'll listen to this garbage because it reminds of MTV clip specials I watched back when they still played music, and I still played Barbies.

Leah in Production II is using this in her final film. Gave me chills when she showed a rough cut.

ED. NOTE - Fixed "Least Christmas" back to the proper "Last Christmas." I think that was a Freudian blogger slip for actually talking about Wham! in a non-ironic context.

...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 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 dares disturb the universe.

In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

-TS Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Decisions. We make a thousand and one of them each day - good, bad, indifferent. Sometimes, like poor Mr. Prufrock, we're so worried about what impact those decisions will or won't have we're stuck in a state of inertia that keeps us from doing much of anything at all. And as Greg Dulli of my favorite Cincinnati band ever says ""You've got indecision/and indecision is my enemy."

It has been a year since I made the best decision of my life. I can say this with certainty now, in the sweet hereafter. It didn't even occur to me until I was on the phone yesterday with Cassie, and she mentioned running into him, Paul. Unsurprisingly, she said he gave her a hateful look. I felt bad for ever involving her in that situation, and still do.

I know that at some point all of this boy talk becomes a broken record - everyone is in relationships that are like decisions - good, bad, indifferent. Maybe I shouldn't talk about all of my personal business here, but this has become a journal of sorts for me. I write to get my feelings out, and even if no one read them, I'd keep writing. So this is why I talk about these things so much, because the writing helps me process.

But it's been a year since I've spoken to him in the flesh, the person who I was once closest of all to. I was going home for the weekend, the first time since coming to school - causing a spectacle with Kelsey, we were holding hands walking past his dorm, and he was outside smoking. I'd been ignoring calls and texts for about a month, dodged the bullet when he saw me out and about several times by cleverly ducking behind something. But there he was and he came up to me, waving his hands. He asked if I checked my phone anymore. Where had I been? What was I doing? Why wouldn't I talk to him? He followed me for the block, me giving curt answers all the way. The last image I have is him standing arms spread with "are you really walking away from me" look on his face, mouth open, cigarette in one hand. And I walked away.

My mom and I had a long, late night talk about Paul over pie this summer. I told her a lot of things she didn't know, that I had "forgotten" to mention. They were things I'd only told two other people on this planet. In high school, it was kind of a joke that I was so into Paul and he was so very not into me (which he actually was, but that's another story). I think a lot, not all, of our friends viewed it as stupid high school infatuation that just needed enough drinks to finally happen. Even my mom thought that way. But things were more serious then even I thought until afterwards.

If I could've avoided him totally until this point, I would have. This spring though I finally was forced to say everything to him when he started talking shit to Ben, making me panic with empty threats, putting a strain on our relationship that contributed to its end. At least now he knows, and I know, about all of it. We both said the things that were left unsaid, and haven't spoken since.

It was the best choice of my young, naive, green life to leave him on that street and never look back. I don't regret Paul, or spending as much effort as I did on him because I don't regret things, but I wish I would've done it sooner. But I learned oh so much from that situation, and still am, a year later.

That was a good decision. A really good decision. Maybe it was a bad decision to involve myself with him in the first place, but it was a decision nonetheless. I learned more than I could ever say from it, and that's all I can ask. I did what Prufrock couldn't: I dared. Did I fail? Absolutely.

And indeed there will be time to wonder "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair.

You get a major bonus point if you know why I picked this song for this post. It has to do with a lyric, but not the one you'd think. Pure 90s goodness. Oh, Gavin Rossdale.

...In which our heroine is ill.

You know what sucks? Is when the antibiotic you're taking for your sinus infection works well for that, but makes you so sick you can't eat without puking. Or drink anything beyond green tea. But I can breath. Tough call there.

I officially broke up with Glee tonight. So much potential - too much in fact. Something I read today mentioned how they liked slow-burning story-lines more. I agree. Only three episodes of Mad Men left. Le sigh.

In all probability, I'll be going to the third, just announced Pixies show simply because: why not. How many more chances will I have to see them (few), and the opening band for that show is Bad Lieutenant, which features Bernard Sumner of New Order/Joy Division fame, which is as close as I'll ever get to seeing them. I digress.

Pre-production, and my first editing project are due tomorrow. I cannot believe it is midterms already, despite the fact that I only have one, and it's a project. I'm still not excited about my group for the film, but I can't do anything about it. I did make a couple of friends in that class - Leah, who has the most proficient liquid eyeliner skills I've ever seen, and Daniel, who ironically enough I met last year through you-know-who. They were roommates. Small world. We created the whiskey commercial scene from Lost in Translation Tuesday in class which was pretty fantastic. Set design and hair/make-up done by yours truly.

This is a ramble-y sort of post, just less artful. I ran into the boys tonight - smoking outside of Harold's Chicken, unsurprisingly - and I think Ben was actually glad to see me. I thank him for not being an asshole. Take note, men.

What is with the number of pregnant girls/moms I know on Facebook? There is not a more terrifying thought than being a mommy. You are girls indeed, not women, and birth control is $9 a month at your local Walmart. Being adult enough to have sex means you're adult enough to have a baby too, not get your bellybutton pierced afterwards. Kids today...

...In which our heroine is a copycat.

Stealing a page from the delightful Miss Cassandra (that sounds like a groupie name and makes me think of Almost Famous. Can we be Miss Cassandra and Miss Kate from now on?)...

Currently -

Drinking apple juice and a enjoying Halloween-sized Twix, thanks momma.

Watching Castle, which is a sub-par show at best but it has Nathan Fillion. Thus, I accept its mediocrity.

Finishing Production II homework, avoiding Culture Race and Media like the plague.

Talking to Emily, despite the fact that she left my apartment no less than an hour ago.

Breathing like Tony Soprano thanks to my diagnosed, and now antibiotic treated sinus infection.

Last movie watched - Honestly, I was disappointed. The first hour or so was fabulous, and I loved the wild things, but I thought the story didn't go anywhere or carry any emotional weight.

Last song listened to - I don't know a damn thing about this guy, other than I love the upbeat sadness in this song.

Last book read - Borrowed from Heidi. Not that interesting, and didn't tell me much I didn't already know. I was proud of myself for knowing all the things discussed in the Chicago chapter.

Last item cooked - I wish I could make pot roast like my mom's. It just isn't the same...

Current desktop background - This is perfect Seth Rogen from Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Do you know boys like this? Send them to Chicago and give them my number.

Article read - Justice Says It Won't Go After Medical Marijuana Users from Time magazine. It's about time. I can has legalization?

Phrase said - "Really?" In response to WGN's use of "Werewolves of London" in their cheesy ass Halloween story.

...In which our heroine takes it easy.

After the dourness of last post, I thought I'd make a list of simple pleasures. Just some day to day things that make me smile, nothing serious. As Ferris says, "life moves pretty fast, if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

• Waking up without an alarm clock.
• Painting my nails red.
• The crappy horror movies from the 80s and 90s they always show around Halloween.
• Eating breakfast for dinner.
• Showering, and thus staying in my pajamas, in the afternoon.
• Thinking of the perfect word for something.
• Picking up right where I left off with old friends with nothing more than a look or a laugh.
• The way my house sounds in winter.
• When my mom sends me back issues of Entertainment Weekly/any packages received.
• Tarantino's dialogue.
• Talking until 3 AM about things that'll probably give me nightmares.
• My plaid, men's XL fleece pants that I swim in.
• Giant marshmallows in hot chocolate.
• Sleeping in the nook between arm and chest of a boy.
• Listening to Radiohead/Fleet Foxes/Led Zeppelin on my iPod falling asleep.
• Waking up to music - not Lady Gaga my neighbor plays though.
• Pictures of cute, preferably baby, animals.
• Diners. Waffle House at 3 AM.
• My about once monthly cigarette.
• Beards, flannel, glasses, dark hair, band t-shirts, Chuck Taylors, in any combination.
• Not being jaded enough to still be moved to tears by a Pixar movie.
• The way my face gets all flushed when the end of a film is perfect - recently: Inglourious Basterds.
• Wasting hours in Half Price Books.
• Sunday breakfast, even if it's just for myself.
• Red lips, dark hair, pale skin, hourglass shapes.
• Staying up late on Sundays to wait for Mad Men to pop up.
• Sleepovers.
• Dressing up Boris, the anteater.
• Going to see movies with my dad.
• Going to Chipotle and have heart to hearts with my mom while there.
• When the writing is going so good my fingers don't go fast enough.

There's a whole lot to be happy about, and hopefully it just keeps getting better.

And this is one of the most cheerful songs ever. I can's listen with attempting to Vandella it up.

...In which our heroine is the midnight rambler.

Ramble, ramble, ramble since we seem to not only like them, but make some of our own.

The Facebook online box is a list of former lovers. It always it hits me when more than one of them is on at the same time. Someone who you've shared you're most intimate moments with is reduced to no more than a green dot and a tiny profile picture. Technology, what a weird thing. Not even former lovers. Former classmates who I spent nine hours a day with are reduced to no more than "WHO DEY" status updates and changed profile pictures. The wind is howling fierce outside and I love watching it rain from this height. I look at the Sears Tower, clouded in fog, and think of Ben, always. There's a tiny cockroach shimmying across the carpet, but he's too small to kill. There's also a spider that lives behind my tapestry but every time I try to kill him it just retreats back up. Fall is in the air and I can't put into words how the chill in the air and Sundays spent hitting these buttons makes me nostalgic. I miss my house in the winter and I miss taking it down and passing it around in my upstairs, when it was still something forbidden and fun and not a lifestyle. I haven't smoked or drank in a month which was longer than I went with mono. Bugs thinks I'm looking down on his current activities because of this, but really I'm just tired of the stoner lifestyle. Most of my peers indulge and I feel like I'm being holier than thou for living clean. The cockroach is migrating towards my DVD shelf and now "Crazy Mary" is in my head. Who really cares if their eyelashes aren't thick enough, Latisse? Mascara works just fine. Mad Men is more perfect than I can say and it inspires me to say less and show more. Which completely goes against the point of this. I spent four hours tonight writing about race and gender and I don't really give a shit about analyzing either. I will saying Writing Women Safe is both awesome and nauseating. When the woman, Tara Dabney, came from Family Rescue this week and said that in an abusive relationship, the woman feels like no matter what she does will ever be enough, I dug my nails into my palms and tried to make my stomach stop doing the hot/cold thing that happens when I'm excited or terrified. That class is making me perceive my life and my relationships in a new way. I need to call my grandma and aunt, but every time I do they make me feel like shit for being here. Sorry, I need to live my own life and that I don't have a three-year old right now. The spider veins in my thighs remind me I'm theirs, purple and fragmented despite the fact I'm not even twenty. Emily has them too which makes me feel not as horrible. A Johnny Cash song I don't know the name to, one line from it is on repeat. I played one level 47 times in Crash Bandicoot tonight before passing it and cursing every word I know. Then I lost on the next level, of course. We're under a tornado watch tonight so I won't sleep, the wind howling. I'm getting to be an expert at cat naps but my dreams have been especially vivid. Bachelor No. 1 keeps coming to kill me in them, or comes back to school. I wake up and can't go back to sleep. Tool Academy, now there's some deep television programming. They could shoot it in my building this year. I keep seeing cute boys in the film building but they all seem so old. Another mascara commercial - I don't even know what brand I wear, just that the tube is yellow and purple. I made the fatal mistake of finding out Cookie Jar blizzards have a thousand calories, but that won't stop me from using my dollar off coupon. I eat so poorly when school starts. I've had a headache for five days and my immune system is doing its best. I refuse to get a flu shot, swine or otherwise, or use hand sanitizer. Wash your hands, drink your OJ, do something nice for someone else, and sleep tight.

Here's that song. My mom would faint if she knew I was posting it, the only Pearl Jam song I still actively listen to and it's not even theirs:

...In which our heroine is a heartbreaker.

I did something new and liberating last night: I broke a boy's heart. This sounds cruel, but I'll explain. For the first time ever, I didn't get mine stomped on and said goodbye on my terms without being heartbroken. Bachelor No. 3 and I had one date Thursday which went well...then he showed up drunk, on my doorstep, at 4 AM. The phrase "I love you" was mentioned as that I was his favorite thing over beer and whiskey. Tempting, I know. We had another date Monday and it was apparent things were not going to work out. He likes George Lopez, and "hates zombie movies because they're stupid and the same thing over and over." (!) He still tried to tell me a week wasn't enough time to know if I was into him, but I gave him the boot.

It feels awesome to have not lingered with a guy because he wasn't exactly what I wanted. I didn't try to fix him. I didn't obsess. I didn't force something out of nothing. I said goodbye and moved on. I know it sounds like a crazy concept, but for me it was a major step forward. I was in the power position for once. Unless someone truly fantastic crosses my path, I'm saying no thanks to dating. I swear I'm toxic - somedays I think there's a flashing neon sign on my chest that says "Are you damaged and/or a substance abuser? THEN COME ON DOWN!" I love men, but they make me crazy.

Otherwise, I'm boring. School is kicking my ass - when I leave for class at noon it'll be non-stop until 10 PM. YAY! Oh, I got Pixies tickets for both nights with no trouble! I'm so very excited. My poor, weak immune system is doing its best to fight off a fall cold. I simply do not have time to get sick. My roommate still sucks. A lot. She doesn't sleep here, and I wish she would gethefuckout.

I just realized Zombieland and A Serious Man open on the same day - how's that for some disparate awesomeness. What a weak year it has been in film - I'm hard pressed to think of anything I've seen that'll get a Best Picture nod. The Hurt Locker? Too political, and too indie. Up? Not even Pixar's best. Most of the prestige pictures are coming - The Lovely Bones, The Road, Amelia, Nine, Up in the Air - but even then, that's still pretty weak. What am I most excited for? The Road, Where the Wild Things Are, Avatar (I don't care what you say, James Cameron makes awesome action films), Nine, The Lovely Bones, Up in the Air, A Serious Man, Sherlock Holmes, Precious, Antichrist, The Private Lives of Pippa Lee, Pirate Radio, An Education. So much for film school ruining films.

In honor of my ticket acquisition, this is exactly how I hope to hear "Cactus" in November:

...In which our heroine is cautiously optimistic.

As expected, it's been nearly a week without a post. Busy, busy Katydid. But it's a good busy, a productive and optimistic busy. I'm liking it.

Classes have been really good so far. Wednesdays are my favorite and I had two wonderful discussions today - one about gender roles and the objectification of women in advertising, and the other about the language of domestic violence. Heavy, but interesting stuff. Math is a joke. Production II isn't going quite as wonderfully as I'd hoped, but it's still early.

And now I provide a warning: please, don't go see Jennifer's Body. It was even worse than anticipated, even though it was free. I really do appreciate the fact that Megan Fox is smokin' hot (and she is in the film) but she just cannot act. Everything is wrong with the movie - a bad script by Diablo Cody that attempts to deconstruct high school stereotypes but instead just enforces them, cheesy effects, poor editing/cinematography choice, and no real plot. I could get really film snob on the ideas presented on gender and the female notion of beauty and friendship, but I'll spare you. Everything that happens in the movie you can figure out from the trailer. EVERYTHING. Stay far, far away.

The season finale of True Blood proved that it is one of the best shows on television. Yes, it's campy and over the top and the central romance of Bill and Sookie is boring as shit, but damnit, it's fun. More Eric was certainly needed, and I'll miss Maryann, but season three will be promising. The Emmys are this weekend and Mad Men better win big.

And in this edition of Katydid in the City, I break my own rules, again. I made it a whole ten days into the semester before meeting a boy. Heidi fixed us up and we've hung out the past couple nights. There is a pseudo-date tomorrow. Details to follow about said boy as they become pertinent. He is a sweetheart though. Cautious optimism, that's the idea.

I would very much like some of those boneless wings from Wendy's at this present moment. And a Frosty. And like three middle bites of a double cheeseburger. And an iPhone. And a baby anteater. It's the Darlene wedding episode of Roseanne, which luckily I'm tired enough not to cry at. I will forever have a crush on David.

This is probably my favorite song off of the Fleet Foxes debut record. Lovely:

...In which our heroine alphabetizes.

One last stream o' consciousness, only because it's the end of summer, and last night deserved it.

"Take Me I'm Yours" by Squeeze should never be made into a mash-up by a DJ. Nor should "General and Majors" by XTC. I see a lot of the same faces over and over again, re-meet them, and then do it all again. One girl, Sophie, has been incredibly drunk every single time I've ever seen her. My left forearm is still stained with faded highlighter flowers. Fruit soaked in everclear is impossible to ingest, although the hairy buffalo/jungle juice we made was delicious. One bite of pineapple set my chest on fire. It was the first party I've been to in a while where no one made a total disaster out of them self, which was a nice change. Julia, one of my old roommates, came all the way from Rock Falls for the party and we talked forever about bills and boobs and boys. Ben came, and everything is okay. We talked for a while and I told him to take care of himself when I hugged him goodbye. He looked well, but his new phone and wallet made me realize just how removed from his life I am. I still struggle with the concept of spending all day, every day with someone and then being reduced to bullshit party banter. But it was okay, and I'm just glad he's doing well, truly. I felt bad for Emily that Lane didn't come, but that wound is still fresh. People amaze me with their alcohol tolerance - that fruit was lethal and they were eating it by the cupful. I was the perfect level of drunk and had enough sense to stop myself before words began to slur. It was a chilly night but I kept laughing and stayed warm. There was a drunk bro outside of Emily's window screaming so loud and violently about losing his phone I started to get nervous. My back ached from sleeping on one pillow. McDonald's is the ideal morning after food, and "Rhythm is a Dancer" is the ideal music for the morning after. It sunk in, between sips of punch and catching up with new and old friends again how I'm growing up, again, again, again, once more with feeling. School starts Tuesday and I am glad.

And just to keep you from being too bored, my favorite bands from A to Z, with a second choice for each:

A -  Arcade Fire (Alice in Chains)

B - The Beatles (Beastie Boys)

C - The Cure (The Clash)

D - David Bowie (The Decemberists/Daft Punk/Depeche Mode)

E - Elvis Costello & the Attractions (Elton John, before 1980)

F- Fleet Foxes (Foo Fighters)

G - Grant Lee Philips (The Gossip)

H - Hole? (terrible letter, no second choice)

I - Interpol (Iggy Pop)

J - Jenny Lewis (Joy Division/Johnny Cash)

K - Kings of Leon (The Kinks)

L - Led Zeppelin (Lucinda Williams)

M - My Morning Jacket (Modest Mouse)

N - Neutral Milk Hotel (Neil Young/Nine Inch Nails)

O - Of Montreal (Oasis)

P - Pixies (Pink Floyd)

Q - Queen

R- Radiohead (Roxy Music/Rilo Kiley/The Replacements)

S - The Smiths (Sisters of Mercy)

T - Tool (Talking Heads)

U - U2 (Urge Overkill)

V - Violent Femmes (The Velvet Underground)

W - The White Stripes (Wilco)

X- X (XTC)

Y - Yaz (The Yarbirds)

Z - Warren Zevon (c'mon, it's Z)

For whatever reason, this is still my most played song on iTunes. Aretha just knows what's up:

...In which our heroine lays it out.

A late night confessional -

I had my first fish tacos tonight (no pun intended) and they were delicious. I do not think they would have been as delicious without the PBR consumed. Consequently, I still think PBR and Bud Light taste the exact same. I have red velvet cake for breakfast, delightful. It's funny how new friends work out and how I feel like Emily and I are the ones getting left out. I'm glad Bugs is back, but it also means Ben comes up a lot more now. It's a lot easier to be over him when I don't have to talk about him. We'll see how our first encounter goes in a week or so. Craig Ferguson is infinitely funnier than Jimmy Fallon. I wonder why my cable signal is only worbley on some channels. I'm getting a new roommate Friday and her favorite book is the Bible. Hmm. I need to get paid - funds are getting slim but I still spend on things like red velvet cake. I will have a red velvet armadillo cake at my wedding, should it ever happen. The bad tattoos in the world never cease to amaze me. A conversation about sex with a lesbian, a gay male, and a straight single female and an attached straight male is guaranteed to end in hilarity. Disagreements are always bound to happen about hippies and their body hair. "Oceanside" by the Decemberists is in my head right now. I'm currently wondering if recent transgressions were a mistake. Is a relationship better if it didn't exist, then really existed, and then is awkward, or better to not have that relationship exist at all? "Friends" is one of my most hated television shows. But yet I watch a constant stream of reality shit on VH-1. I do not mind having the apartment to myself. I'm so ready for school to start. I need to meet people, and not develop a crush on someone on day three of the school year. I don't want a relationship right now, but I'm tired of mornings alone, not even the sex as much as the companionship. Heidi and Telly, Bugs' and now my lesbian friends, are an exceedingly adorable couple and I want what they have. This seems inane, this stream of consciousness, right now as I'm writing it. I started a Twitter which is just one more way Big Brother is watching. Maybe my mom is right - who really needs to know if you go to the fucking grocery store? I wish they'd stop with these haunted house movies, especially the PG-13 ones. Antidotally, I borrowed The Devil Rejects from Heidi and Telly. I have such boy movie taste. DQ Blizzards and Ben and Jerry's ice cream are genetically perfected stoner food.  I've been sleeping copious amounts lately, storing up for the school year I guess. Dan and Darlene's relationship on "Roseanne" is incredibly similar to mine and my dad's. I feel bad about how little I've written in the past month or so, but other priorities have taken precedent. I can't even look at my script anymore, I'm tired of it and it needs fixing. I love writing like this as dumb as it may seem, it's the most cathartic exercise for me. These little girl pageant shows are abhorrent, the mothers more so than the daughters. And they always seem to be toads with hateful husbands. Yeah, that won't create daddy issues. I hate being a grown up and spending money on things like cleaning supplies, how lame. Lysol, so fun. I watch a lot of really terrible 90s movies on TBS, yet neglect my "intellectual" Netflix acquisitions. And now, this ramble ends.

And I want to go to Austin, Texas:

...In which our heroine absorbs.

Consumption of media, play it as it lays:

Funny People - I wanted to love it so, so badly and went away just feeling very blah. To be quite honest, nothing happens in the film, certainly nothing that I did not expect 100%. We talk a lot in my screenwriting classes about basic ideas of story - what are the stakes for the characters, what challenges them, what does the protagonist want - and the film fails on all of these levels. I'll skip the plot details because the trailer already shows them all. Judd Apatow needs a firmer hand editing - the whole subplot of Seth Rogen's roommates and love interest was essentially worthless, and I was more than antsy for the end after two and a half hours. Also, I swear every joke within in a dick joke, which wears thin quickly. I will say Rogen and Adam Sandler give pretty decent, understated performances and the cinematography is lovely. A big disappointment for me - probably the weakest Apatow affiliated film I've seen. Oh, and on a personal note, I really do not appreciate the use of "Jesus Etc." in affiliation to Seth Rogen's character, too many sad memories attached to that one. I almost lost it.

District 9 - A refreshing breath of individuality into my beloved sci-fi genre. Far and away, the most impressive aspect of this film is the amazing visual and make-up effects. It cost $30 million and looked like it could've easily cost $150 million. I loved the faux-documentary style mixed with the narrative film, and the lead, Sharlto Copley, plays dorky as well as anyone I've ever seen. This film has the distinction of only a few other films - Audition, Dead Alive, The Fly, 28 Weeks Later - that have ever made me feel sick, yay!A lot of the reviews I've read have remarked that it's the best sci-fi film of the decade which seems a little much, but then again, I'm hard pressed to think of anything that's better. I've seen better films, for sure, but this is just a solid, entertaining flick that shows how far a moderate budget can go.

Mad Men Season 3 premiere - I loved it, duh. But I mostly wanted to mention that the Parents Television Council filed a complaint against it for the gay sex and semi-boobs in the episode, but yet doesn't care that The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife (NSFW) - which put Henry & June over the top to be the first NC-17 film ever twenty years ago - is featured prominently. How times change. But that aside, a really beautiful episode. I love Don more and more, that smarmy bastard. I would've like more of the ladies, Joan, Betty, and Peggy, but that'll come.

Top Chef Masters - Caught up with this, my favorite food show. While I doubt I'll ever even attempt the dishes on here, but I love watching them get made. Everything looks so good - especially Chicago's own Rick Bayless and his gourmet Mexican food. I enjoyed the Masters edition because the disasters were fewer. It makes me want to improve my culinary skills.

The Dead Zone - Probably the least interesting Stephen King book I've read in its entirety - Gerald's Game and Lisey's Story were both given up on. I guess it's partially my own fault for knowing the plot ahead of time, but his style is weak in this one. I felt the characterizations were weak, and the macabre element wasn't explored enough. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't The Stand or The Long Walk.

Jim James: Tribute to George Harrison - Three posts in a row with him, but hey, I'm going through a hippie boy phase. This is a beautiful album, simply put. George has always had my favorite work as a solo Beatle ("My Sweet Lord" is one of my favorite songs ever) and Jim James doing stripped down versions? Oh yes. If you're a fan of either, I recommend fully. And you can even stream it for free. 

Picked up East of Eden and Bambi vs. Godzilla: On the Nature, Practice, and Purpose of the Movie Business for reading, American Beauty and the Alien trilogy to add the collection, although I haven't watched Alien 3 yet, on purpose. Taking Woodstock and Inglourious Basterds are musts for the weekend.

Since I mentioned it, "My Sweet Lord." I never tire of this song and it always makes me smile.

...In which our heroine loves the lads.

So a while back, I confessed my girl crushes. Women are the fairer sex, but I can only envy them and seeing as I do like the boys, as frustrating and enigmatic as they may be.  Mary-Louise Parker, despite her failings as Nancy Botwin, says it well in this thank-you note to men from Esquire magazine:

Manly creature, who smells good even when you don’t, you wake up too slowly, with fuzzy, vertical hair and a slightly lost look on your face as though you are seven or seventy-five; you can fix my front door, my sink, and open most jars; you, who lose a cuff link and have to settle for a safety pin, you have promised to slay unfortunate interlopers and dragons with your Phillips head or Montblanc; to you, because you will notice a woman with a healthy chunk of years or pounds on her and let out a wolf whistle under your breath and mean it; because you think either rug will be fine, really it will; you seem to walk down the street a little taller than me, a little more aware but with a purpose still; to you who codifies, conjugates, slams a puck, baits a hook, builds a decent cabinet or the perfect sandwich; you who gives a twenty to the kids selling Hershey’s bars and waits at baggage claim for three hours in your flannel shirt; you, sir, you take my order, my pulse, my bullshit; you who soaps me in the shower, soaks with me in the tub; to you, boy grown-up, the gentleman, soldier, professor, or caveman, the fancy man with initials on your towels and salt on your chocolates, to you and to that guy at the concession stand; thank you for the tour of the vineyard, the fire station, the sound booth, thank you for the kaleidoscope, the Horsehead Nebula, the painting, the truth; to you who carries me across the parking lot, up the stairs, to the ER, to roll-away or rice mat; to you who shows up every so often only to confuse and torment, and you who stays in orbit, always, to my left and steady, you stood up for me, I won’t forget that; to you, the one who can’t figure it out and never will, and you who lost the remote, the dog, or your way altogether; to you, wizard, you sang in my ear and brought me back from the dead, you tell me things, make me shiver; to the ones who destroyed me, even if for a minute, and to the ones who grew me, consumed me, gave me my heart back times ten; to most everything that deserves to call itself a man: How I do love thee, with your skill to light fires that keep me warm, light me up.

Admittedly, my taste is...let's say, unique, and oft-questioned. No, I do not think Tom Cruise, Zac Efron, Robert Pattinson, or Channing Tatum are attractive. Washboard abs (except Brad Pitt's in Fight Club) do nothing for me. I do not get excited about Hollister attire or Axe body spray, which for the record, is suffocating. Dark hair, however,  is an absolute must. 

The theme should be obvious in these, my list of boy crushes, in this Tiger Beat only edition of Katydid in the City:

Nathan Fillion - Oh Malcolm Reynolds, Dr. Pomatter, Captain Tightpants, or Dr. Horrible. You're just as funny as you are handsome.

Clive Owen - There are lots of adorable British boys including Ewan McGregor and James McAvoy, but his overall badassery bests them all.

Jon Hamm - He defines tall, dark, and handsome as Don Draper. I love the perpetual five o'clock shadow.

Emile Hirsch - A very promising actor, he looks way better rocking the hippie beard and long hair.

Colin Meloy - Of The Decemberists. His voice is far from sexy, but his wordplay makes up for it. I've got the hots for the smarts.

Ryan Gosling - Sadly, he looks best all cracked out in Half Nelson. But I wouldn't say no anytime. And he's a musician? Have mercy.

Zach Galifianakis - Yeah, a weird one, I know. But the beard is awesome and he's really funny, so I'm in.

Jim James - Of My Morning Jacket. My current obsession - the four hour bootleg of Bonnaroo 2008 is in heavy rotation. I want to be his hippie bride and tour with MMJ everywhere. Awesome beard, awesome voice, awesome lyrics. And he loves Neil Young. So cute.

Seth Rogen - We're destined for each other, I'm pretty sure, seeing as I could provide a list of ten ways we're meant to be together, but my BFFF already took that quiz in pink gel pen. The slimness and lack of beard have made him slip in the rankings lately, but I still heart him the most.

I promise to make a serious post to combat this nonsense. Maybe.

...In which our heroine has been lazy.

I have been negligent as of late. Family and friends have been taking up most of my time, which is not at all a bad thing. I'm so lucky that when I come home, I get to see all sorts of people - whether it be a  road-trip to Columbus with Josh and the wonderful Pomegranates or reuniting with my two oldest friends and some classy strawberries and cream tequila - and I treasure them all.

This trip back has really crystalized how adult my life is now. Things I've done, and things I've heard that would have been quite scandalous a year ago are said in passing now. Everything seems like it flies at an accelerated pace. The fact that I know people that are getting married or expecting is still weird though. I can't believe I'm going to be twenty in a few months.

Otherwise, I'll be back in Chicago tomorrow for Lollapalooza with friends this weekend. The must-see bands include Bon Iver, Ben Folds, Fleet Foxes, The Decemberists, Of Montreal, Depeche Mode, TV on the Radio, Animal Collective, and Tool.  I'm hoping that the mild weather hangs around, and the poster for this year is as cool as it was last year.

Katydid's TV Watch - So Maryann is a handmaiden of Dionysus on True Blood? Guessed that one, but I will say the season is really hitting its stride and I can't wait for the inevitable Eric/Sookie hookup, or to see where it all goes with the Fellowship of the Sun. As for Weeds...bleh. Shane getting shot was interesting, as is Nancy leaving Esteban, but the show has pushed itself to such an insane level, there's not much room to go from here. Andy sucking breast milk from Nancy - are you fucking serious? Mad Men starts in two weeks, praise the TV gods.

I can't believe I haven't seen Funny People yet, even despite the mediocre reviews, it pains me. The next good thing in the pipeline is Inglourious Basterds, which I maintain high hopes for. Started reading Down and Dirty Pictures by Peter Biskind. It's a companion to his book Easy Riders, Raging Bulls which was about the 70s Hollywood renaissance, and instead focuses on the rise of independent film in the 90s, as fostered by Miramax and Sundance. Fact and gossip, beautifully intertwined.

I'll let the new Coen Brothers, A Serious Man, speak for itself:

This seems an appropriate song for my current state. I couldn't find the naughty video from Eyes Wide Shut, so this'll have to do.

...In which our heroine goes 50/50.

I keep waiting for summer to come to Chicago and it hasn't. We had a couple sunny days in the 90s, but mostly there's just rain and the miserable muggy heat that follows. It can stay cool for Pitchfork and Lollapalooza though.

Job training was very cool. I'm by far the youngest person there - all the other mentors are seniors or have just graduated - and then it's a bunch of educators from the Chicago Public school system. The training is for next week, when I'll get two CPS high school students to mentor. All week, we'll be working on finding text and images that represent where they are from and where they are going to culminate in a book at the end. Pretty cool. I'm happy that I've found a job that can have a positive impact on another person.

Putting the final nail in the coffin, Emily and Lane broke up. It makes me quite sad not only for them, but now the chances of the fabulous five I spent the year with ever even being in the same room again are slim. One split couple could work, but not two. I realized yesterday that every couple I know, with the exception of one, is now finished, which is really odd. An era ends, but at the same time, I've also realized that this is the first time in a couple years that I haven't been wrapped up in a boy. It's a nice feeling.

(500) Days of Summer review: Really good for the first hour or so. Zooey and Joseph are adorable, have great chemistry and provide a lot of laughs. But as their relationship breaks down, the movie kind of implodes. It stops feeling realistic and the ending really ruined it for me. Better than the average rom-com, but not better than the hype.

Speaking of that, I'm getting really hard to impress film-wise. In the couple weeks, I've watched (500) Days of Summer, Cemetery Man, Role Models, Amateur, Chinatown, Away We Go, and Public Enemies. All of them were "fine," which has become my de facto word. The only thing I've watched lately that's impressive was Dr. Strangelove, which I knew I'd like going in. Film school is making me snooty, and I wonder if it's better that I know what's behind the curtain now,.

Work all week, Thursday means Paper Heart with Charlyene Yi in person, who stars and was the stoner chick in Knocked Up, and the weekend means AshleyAnn and Pitchfork!

And here's some Saturday Jenny Lewis to put a smile on your face: