Sunday, February 28, 2010

I did a bad thing.

You know how, sometimes, you find your way into a room that you know isn't supposed to be unlocked? At least, not to you it shouldn't be unlocked? But you think it's so cool that some slip of fortune left it open for you to poke around and check it out? But then, of course, karma bites you because there is something in that room that hurts you. Not seriously. Not enough that anyone will ever suspect that you have been into that room and poked around and found all the things you weren't supposed to find, but something that will hang out in your consciousness for days on end?

I did a bad thing. I read your blog.

I don't know if you still read mine (I know for a while there you did), but I wish you'd talked to me before you sent me a facebook message that was incredibly vague. I wish you'd followed up on it in actual conversation instead of letting me go off and decide you were a douche who did it because you found someone better and needed to get rid of me fast.

I'm sorry that you feel like my "personality" went away when I got awkward and tried too hard to flirt with you. I agree. I acted like an idiot. But let me establish that I have absolutely no experience flirting, or being in a relationship, or anything really. My entire high school experience can be summed up by being a fag hag for, and subsequently falling head over heels for, three to four different gay guys. Having now left high school far behind, I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I am, in fact, a heterosexual female, and hence the guys I am used to hanging out with are not the kinds of guys that are attracted to me. (Before I was fag hag supreme, I was "one of the boys," ie the neighborhood girl in ripped jeans and oversized t-shirts who liked video games and could kick your ass three ways to saturday - is this what you were attracted to?)

So even if I've blown my chances with you (which is totally 100% okay because I am over it and I think so are you), would you at least talk to me instead of leaving me with a facebook message? Because it might not have seemed like a big deal to you but I think it's pretty clear that to me it was.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Just a theory.

Bobst library has eight-foot-high plexiglass suicide barriers on all of the staircases and balconies, and yet everyone knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who had class with someone who knows someone who jumped, or if they don't, they got the e-mail about it the day after and scratched their heads and wondered "How did they even do that?"

And with this question, this doubting of the impossibility of climbing the suicide barriers, your mind starts ticking. You examine the staircases and the railings. Maybe if you dragged a chair into the hallway? Learned parkour?

It's the kind of thing that, until you put any sort of thought into it, it seems impossible. But as soon as you consider the fact that people have, and do, and will continue to jump from the tenth floor of Bobst library, you can't help but think of how they managed to beat the laws of physics and actually succeed in doing it.

Call it morbid curiosity. Even when you begin to get your mind around how to do it, you back off, because clearly only the truly desperate scale ten feet of plexiglass to get up close and personal with the tessellation on the floors below, and you're afraid if you figure it out, you'll join their ranks.

I'm not desperate. I'm not suicidal. I'm just in the library and I can't help but thinking about it. Most of the study stations overlook the atrium that is a favorite among suicide divers around here. So when you're procrastinating on your writing the essay homework (like I am now), it just kind of... happens.

So I haven't figured it out.

-Leez.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Wait, the olympic weirdness gets better!

They did perform it at the Olympics, as part of the "folk dance" competition.

The Australians were not amused. The Canadian First Nations aren't either. (Bonus points for pissing off the olympic co-hosts. Not.)

I
Uh
I got nothing. What made them think that was a good idea?

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Studies of Character

I spent this weekend rewriting the second half of a project I will refer to as 'Bogus Ghost' (The full title being a bit long to type). This play is, in many ways, something of a twin to Other People's Garden Gnomes (which I can't really call "my last project" because I've written other pieces that I'm satisfied with since.) Both are about the process of grief. I started on my first draft of Bogus Ghost almost a year after I started on Other People's Garden Gnomes, shortly after OPGG enjoyed its first performance at my high school and a few months before it was performed, in slightly altered form, at Blank YPF, and then workshopped at International Thespian Festival. These plays marked a departure for me- instead of writing for a competition (like "Izzy Icarus Fell Off the World") or for the high school stage (everything else), I was writing for me.

In the last week of March 2008, my grandfather died, and then four days later a classmate was killed in a car accident.* OPGG had been a fairly rough idea before then, but after that, the only thing I was concerned with was putting my grief to paper and learning how to write it. Ultimately, Garden Gnomes became a tight little show about coping, control, and family. And then I started work on Bogus Ghost. Again, a study of grief, but from a different perspective. With OPGG, the reactions I put down were immediate and raw, with characters I collected from my life and from generic roles and then placed into their roles. I kept it deliberately removed from my life - while Ophelia is arguably my Author Avatar , or as close to me as anyone in that show comes, she isn't me. Joe is, in retrospect, probably more based on my high school drama teacher than I liked to think at the time. But it was mostly imagined.

So then I guess that brings us to the cast of Bogus Ghost. Three characters. Two of them are twofer token minorities, not for the sake of having a diverse cast but because that was how the characters came to me. And the whole thing started with the characters before it got a plot... I don't really know where the plot came from, honestly, but it's a pretty standard Teen Suicide Drama thing, I think. Anyway, let's take a look...

Lucid Lucille Carter: this is honestly the name on her birth certificate. She is biracial (or halfrican, she probably would call herself), the military brat daughter of a decorated, black vietnam vet and a woman who thinks it's still the summer of love. She is, by her very definition, a bit weird. She calls Allan by his full name always (no exceptions), and is in general a bit of an odd duck in her speech patterns and mannerisms. She is a very spiritual person, interested in ouija and voodoo, but also a bit of a cynic - while she accepts the existence of ghosts readily, she isn't so willing to interact with them. Luce is interested in "finding herself." She enjoys experimenting with identity and developing her own personal style. She is self-confident and assertive.

Allan Chang: I think someone dubbed him as a "gaysian" once? idk. As a character, Allan developed separately from Finn and Luce and was headed for a different continuity until I stuck him into this story. He's had a hard life in terms of his back story, and I don't make it easier by making him dead. (Not sure if this trope applies or not here.) He and Finn have been, in-universe, best friends since practically infancy, with Allan being the leader in most respects. He is effortlessly smart, and although his internal understanding of himself is solid, his understanding of himself in relation to other people and the world in general is rocky. I suspect that he had great-great-grandparents who worked on the transcontinental railroad - in my mind, his family, although very traditionally "Asian," has been in the US a long time... His father is established as having been physically abusive, which I am told is atypical given his background, but let's go with it. Allan killed himself; even he doesn't know why. (this is his actual reason.)

Finn Stewart: I need to retire this damn name once I finish this script. I've used it for too many different characters. Finn is the token white guy, I guess... He's earnest and hardworking, and in terms of identity and personal security he's Allan's opposite. Finn has always been what you could call a "people" person. He gets along and he knows his place - he's a bit uncertain about his future but he figures he'll get there when he gets there. Internally, though, Finn is a wreck. He struggles with unmerited guilt and, although I will swear up and down that he's straight until the end of time, is probably a bit sexually insecure.

I never really know what a script is about until I finish it, and in this case, I think the underlying theme is identity. Of course there are other things at work, but these are all characters who are, for one reason or another, struggling to define themselves.

In OPGG, I became fascinated with the idea of a character who is defined by their absence (Ophelia's father). Original ideas called for him to appear, but I realized that after all I'd built him up to be, anything about him would be anti-climactic. Furthermore, it was a script about people dealing with loss, dealing with that hole in their lives that opened up, and it didn't make sense for him to appear when the whole play was dedicated to the opposite. With this script, it's more of an issue of a character who is dead but not quite gone, a ghost. When people die after an illness or after a long life, it feels more natural - some of the grieving process takes place before it's over. When it's sudden, though, it leaves a hole and it leaves questions, a lingering specter of that person who ought to still be there.

These two scripts have been a healing process and a learning process for me. Hopefully next I can write about something other than dead homosexuals for a change. ;)

-Leez.

*Like, seriously, nothing in either play is purposely based on real world events, I promise.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Olympic weirdness.

So this wasn't exactly performed AT the olympics, but there are olympic skaters involved.



For comparison:



I.
Uh.
I got nothing.

Memories of Warmth



It's 40 degrees right now (which is actually a ton warmer than it's been), so I'm going to post pictures of beaches that I've taken on summer vacations. None of these have been edited, these are the real colors (once weird lighting and camera settings are accounted for.)

Click the thumbnails for the bigger versions.

Alys Beach, FL, July 2009 (Gulf of Mexico)
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Jax Beach, FL, July 2009 (Atlantic)
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View from the Getty Villa, Malibu, CA, June 2008 (Pacific)
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About an hour north of Malibu, Ca, June 2008 (Pacific)

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A passive-aggressive blog post.

Dear you,

I don't know if it's just a coincidence, or if you were trying to be exceptionally douchey and got away with it, but I just wanted you to know that from where I'm sitting you look like a tremendous douche.

No love, me.

(You give yourself too much credit if you think this post is about you.)

Friday, February 19, 2010

Countdown to the 'tane.... T- one week!

One week to accutane! I know it's not a magic bullet and prescription medicine/toxic levels of vitamin A are not something to be taken lightly, but I can't help but be excited. Some of the testimonials I've read say it helps with body acne, too, and I'm curious if it will have any effect on the pilaris I've had since I was a little kid. I sort of feel like pilaris is worse than acne, because there's really nothing you can do about it, it's not guaranteed to go away, and generally people don't even bother treating it. I was really insecure about it when I was younger; some kids in my class started saying I had "pimply arms" and that was the end of short sleeved shirts for most of elementary and middle school!

I just did a little bit of research into the subject and most people say accutane does jackshit for KP, which wouldn't actually be much different from my experience with every other thing I've ever tried for it. There was a cream I was using for a while that was giving me great results but it was in a bottle that was not very airplane friendly so I had to give it up. Some people seem to think that accutane causes KP, but I've already got it so it's not really a concern for me. Whatever. So that's the story of me and my "pimply arms. "

^Above two paragraphs were totally TMI^

Someone on my hall blew up a toilet last night, and it flooded basically four yards of hallway and soaked the carpet. I would like to know what is so hard about using a plunger. Actually, at 3:30 in the morning when they were screaming and pounding on doors about it, I was pretty close to getting up and whacking them with a plunger.

This weekend will, from here on in, be spent frantically writing the ten minute screenplay about zombies that is due thursday. Fun times.

-Leez.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Wonderful Postage

In case you can't read this, it says "Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Lassie." Mom, I don't know if you did this on purpose, but it made me crack up. (The actual package contained this amazing lip balm, of which the first listed ingredient is "Organic chocolate." It is taking all my self control not to take a bite out of it, although the fact that the second ingredient is "beeswax" helps.)

Friday, February 12, 2010

Totally superlative proof of this gorgeous weather

So I bit the bullet and got a haicut, then walked around with wet hair in thirty degree weather because I didn't want to shell out another twenty bucks for a proper blow-dry. But the weather looked like this, so it's okay:

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Countdown to Accutane, T-minus 2 weeks...

I got up... semi-early-ish for a friday this morning and headed down to chinatown for a dermatologists appointment. It was cold and I hadn't eaten yet (fasting bloodwork), so I took the subway down, but then afterwards I had a quick breakfast at starbucks and decided to walk the mile back to my dorm.

It's a pretty nice day out, very blue and clear. I have some errands I need to run later (haircut? groceries?), so I'm sure I'll snap some pictures then. The street level's not so nice, though - we got about thirteen inches of snow on wednesday and now it's just sitting there, refusing to melt, getting dirtier and dirtier and icing up sidewalks. Anyway, I did the dumb thing of walking back to the dorm in the cold and was numb from the neck up when I finally got back. I consoled myself with a scalding cup of peppermint tea and called it a morning.

Hopefully, though, if everything goes well I'll be able to start
accutane in two weeks. I'm told it's pretty much a magic bullet for acne and I spent last night looking up people's before and after pictures and getting excited about it. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed and really hoping I can start it on schedule because I am so ready to not be the girl with the face like the surface of Io.

(Io, FYI, is a moon of Jupiter and the most volcanically active place in the solar system, second only to my face.)

Pictures of this gorgeous day later.

-Leez.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

All the things I would have spammed C with if he were not grounded.

I tend to spam things like news articles and music videos back and forth with my friend "C" over AIM. Unfortunately, C is grounded and has not been online in weeks, so I have this huge backlog building up of things I meant to spam him with. So I'll dump it here instead.



GLEE. (Arty can walk? GASP!) <--Sarcasm.


(No, seriously, we're obsessed with this show. And Neil Patrick Harris.)

Actually at this point I think this post is less things I wanted to spam C. with and more things I just kind of wanted to spam, period.

They cancelled classes at 12:30 on account of there being a blizzard, which meant my teacher let us out at 1:00, but not before we watched An Andalusian Dog (WARNING: Linked video not for the faint of heart). My dad made me watch this about a year or two ago, so I knew what was coming, but everyone else in the class got a bit of a shock... I looked away. Ugh. It's actually a calf's eye, apparently... I don't know if it was already dead or if they just didn't care about cruelty to animals back then.

Anyway we got like 13-20 inches of snow today and it was glorious and I really want it to keep snowing forever. A friend pointed out that New York City would shut down if this happened, and I am honestly 100% okay with this. I have homework due tomorrow that I really don't want to turn in and I am 100% ready for the weekend.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Snow boots

Boots with penguins on the soles cannot be fully appreciated until you have found a patch of snow to stomp in, and then you understand why they have penguins on them. I bought them a year ago in Florida, where it doesn't snow, so I never got to discover what makes them doubly amazing. But now I know. :)

Bey-Bey-Cue?

There's this place about a block from my dorm that is more famous for its advertising than for its actual food. The advertising consists of a short, rotund man who stands on the corner of 8th and University who speaks what we estimate to be about three words of english: "Bey Bey Cue?" while trying to foist flyers onto you. Last semester, someone began collecting these flyers and papering someone else's door with them. Anyway, tonight we went to the actual restaurant and it was a lot less sketchy than I was expecting it to be, given the flyers. It was also surprisingly good for the price (Most of the menu was under ten dollars), although I didn't eat any actual BBQ on account of this troublesome thing of me keeping kosher.

My keeping kosher, by the way, is done less out of religious conviction, and more out of habit and the strange conviction that, if I don't, I will have something of an allergic reaction to the offending piece of shrimp. So I had a salad and it had beans and guacamole in it and it was delicious.

I don't find SNL very funny. Some weeks it cracks me up but tonight its kind of falling flat :| So far they've done not one but two lame skits about Don't Ask Don't Tell, both of which descended into weirdly unfunny gay stereotypes in under three minutes. This must be some kind of world record or something.

All my pants and sheets came out of the dryer still wet today.

On Valentine's Day, I intend to celebrate in the way proposed by Mr. Ashton Kutcher: by telling all the people I can't stand just how much I hate them. I will send out cards that read, "Dear you, Congratulations! You're a bitch! No love, me."

I am really looking forward to it. :)

(I am probably not brave enough to actually do this.)

(I love NCIS marathons, even if I never pay attention enough to actually follow the episodes.)

Monday, February 1, 2010

It is *such* a monday

This morning, I woke up to the sound of my roommate's alarm clock. Seeing as her alarm was set for forty-five minutes after mine was supposed to go off, this was a really bad thing. Turns out I set mine for seven PM. Whoops! So I hopped out of bed, got dressed in a hurry, ate a granola bar instead of breakfast, and ran across campus to my 8 AM class.

Turns out I needn't have bothered. I arrived at class five to ten minutes late, but still ahead of the TA. At 8:15, he still had not arrived and we were all starting to eye each other like a bunch of hungry animals. At 8:20, there was still no sign of him and the natives were getting restless. At 8:30, everyone save five of us left. The five of us who stayed (me included), not having anything better to do, decided to stick around and see if he ever showed up.

He didn't. As far as I can tell, the guy was eaten by a dinosaur on his way to classes this morning. And he was "out of town" last week, so we didn't have recitation then, either. None of us have ever even seen him. (Maybe he doesn't exist. Or is invisible. I dunno.) To paraphrase a classmate, I can't believe I pay tuition for this shit.

In other news, we had a movie marathon on Friday. The final damage was:

  • Inglourious Basterds - a brilliant piece of cinematic wishful thinking.
  • District 9 - An awesomely gory and imaginative alien invasion genrefuck.
  • (500) Days of Summer - so incredibly contrived and pseudo-hipster. The cinematographer got into a packet of lighting filters and masturbated all over the movie with them. It looked like it was shot alternately with pieces of yellow and gray cellophane over the lens. Butchered Regina Spektor songs with bad audio cuts. No love.
  • Interstella 5555 - We all agreed that this movie would make far more sense if we were high as kites to watch it.
And I leave you with the iconically bizarre "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" sequence from Interstella 5555, so you too can agree that it would make far more sense high.