...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.