mr. pibb + red vines = crazy delicious

whoa! it's almost week four of my fifth term at aipd. i am a real pro now! i can laugh at all of the kids dragging the portfolios with stupid tiny wheels around the halls and being crushed in the elevator. i don't corrupt my files like i used to. i back things up, sometimes. people call my name when i enter a room. it's money, baby!
for all of my fans... here's my fall term schedule:

fundamentals of acting - sam hull
intro to editing - john campbell
intermediate camera and lighting - dan ackerman (dear friend lavalier is in this class, we rock!)
fundamentals of scriptwriting.

maybe that's why i'm busy?

facsimilie heart

precious temptation

i hold you in my heart

unattainable

captivated

you have me but i

can't have you

caught in this mess

this abyss

you are silent as i

pour out of my depths

and give you what is mine

what is dear.

uncomfortable

unsure

of what it's worth

unrequited

heard it before

same song different verse

sing the chorus backwards

i'll lie and say it doesn't hurt.

to be or not to.

"Are we live? Are we on?" The cameraman nodded sharply. "I’m Alexis Weaver from Channel 8 News and we are live from the front steps of the Braithwaite Corporation. This is breaking news. Stay tuned and we will have all of the up to the minute details for you." Alexis dropped her arm holding the expensive microphone. She pushed her way to the front door trying to get a better look at what was going on. She had to get a good angle on this story. Her future in the news business depended on it. In desperation she shoved her way through the melee. There was nothing to see. Not yet anyway. She ran back to her position, ready for the camera to roll. She gave the usual non-specific details to the anchor back at the station firing off questions at her. "Yes we are waiting for details, no we haven’t seen the person in question, yes you are a pompous idiot!" that’s what she felt like saying anyway.

The air came abuzz with the noise of the crowd. "Someone’s coming out!" came a shout from the top of the concrete steps. All of the reporters and photographers jockeyed for position. Alexis grabbed Al, her cameraman, and pushed as far to the front as she could get in the sea of humanity. The ruthless point of an elbow nearly knocked the wind out of her. She straightened, grim determination etched on her pretty features. This was her chance to prove herself. A man in a dark suit, his striped tie disheveled, pushed his way through the heavy glass doors. "We have no comment at this time." he said. Then he smiled and waved for the cameras as he hurriedly retreated and shut the mammoth doors behind him. A clamor of disappointment washed through the mob. Alexis was afraid of losing her ground, but her need for oxygen won out. She moved a few steps away from the teeming hot mass and inhaled fresh air as if she were getting ready for a deep-sea dive. Al asked her how she was doing and she produced a wan smile for his benefit. "I’ve been better. I wish we at least knew what all this craziness was about!" She had been listening intently to the hushed conversations swirling around her, but they all seemed about as clueless as she did.

After about forty-five minutes of standing around and intermittent bantering with the anchors at the station Alexis was about ready to throw in the towel job or no job. She had promised her niece that she would go to her schools play tonight and if something didn’t break soon she was going to be late or miss it altogether. She could feel her blood pressure rising and had to step away. She told Al to call her on her cell if he saw or heard any commotion, even the smallest stir. She walked around to the back of the building where the parking lot was and sat on the curb. She put her head between her knees and played with some loose gravel that was scattered on the cracked cement. She heard a door open, but held her position. A man’s voice interrupted her reverie, "Are you okay?" he said. Alexis looked up to see a man with a file box filled with picture frames and random office supplies. "Uh, yes. Thanks… Do you happen to know what all the commotion out front is about?" she said hopefully. The man grimaced. "Yeah, that’s why I’m headed out the back door." Alexis snatched her cell phone from her pocket and pressed the speed dial number for Al. "Al, I’m in the parking lot behind the building. Get over here now!" She slid her phone back into her pocket. "Hi, I’m Alexis Weaver from channel 8 news and it would mean a lot to me if you would let me interview you." The man looked like he was about to bolt as Al rounded the corner with his camera gear. He hesitated, " I guess… well, I’m fired so what can they do to me now?"

"This is Alexis Weaver from Channel 8 News and we are live from the back parking lot of the Braithwaite Corporation. I’m interviewing Paul Jones who was terminated just one hour ago for eating two pieces of pizza."

story time, again

He was a young boy from the trailer park about twelve or thirty. He had to grow up too fast anyway just to survive. His parents didn’t usually know where he was because they didn’t care.
He used to take his dad’s guns out for target practice in the woods behind the park. The guns made him feel powerful. One time when he was back there blowing beer cans to smithereens he almost got caught by the owner of the trailer park.
He was a mean old cuss. He lived in a big house down the road around a corner so that he wouldn’t have to see the crooked rows of dilapidated singlewides. He had a boy that was about the same age as the gunslinger from the trailer park. At least the same age in numbers. He had everything he could ask for and more.
It was a Tuesday. Nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday. Nothing good ever happened on any other day either. His dad remembered to lock the gun cabinet last time he used it, but forgot to put the pistol away before he did. But there was no ammo; there would be no smell of gunpowder today. No feel of hot steel burning his palms. He would have to imagine that he was blowing his enemies to small bits.
The boy who had everything just got a little more than everything. His dad gave him a brand new BMX bike for his birthday. The kind that had pegs and shocks and all that stuff the tricked out bikes were guaranteed to have. One of his favorite things to do was to flaunt his good fortune in the face of the park-rats. That’s what his family called the trailer park kids. It was Tuesday and seemed like as good a day as any other to show off his new bike.
The park-rat, expertly handling his dad’s pistol, was skulking through the brush near the river at the edge of the woods behind the trailer park spying on imaginary enemies. A real enemy came into range. He’s riding another new bike. He’s got another new expensive toy. As the shiny bike and moneyed rider came into close range the park-rat jumped out of the brush and aimed his pistol straight at the offender. He shouted at the boy to get off and hand over his bike. The boy did as he was commanded. The park-rat shoved him to the ground and took the beloved bike. He had never even touched anything so nice. Had never been so close to such perfection. He kept one hand on the glistening handlebars and one hand pointing the pistol at the boy on the ground. He got on the bike, cocked the pistol, and started riding away. He turned and pulled the trigger, there wasn’t any ammo in it anyway and he wanted to see the look on the rich boys face. That would be almost as good as having a brand new BMX bike. At least for a minute. A blast of smoke, the gun recoiled, the park-rat fell off of his stolen goods. The bullet just missed the crying boy’s head. The park-rat ran and threw his dad’s pistol into the river and wondered if he could make it to Mexico.

alternate correspondance...

i was thinking about randomness, because i love it, it's like - well i was going to say a favorite cousin, but really i like it better than my favorite cousin so that doesn't really work (don't worry i don't really have a favorite cousin.) but anyway i was thinking that sometimes i feel as though i'm calculating in my randomness and so does that negate the randomness or does that make me clever for masking the fact that i have "gentrified" ,if you will, or branded the randomness? it's almost like a skill that i have nurtured. that's what the doctors told me to say. they say people get a little skittish when you say schizophrenia...
m'kay. weird. i know.

i know, i know - you've all missed me!

so i'm sitting here digitizing footage of a bunch of girls getting pedicures the night before my roomates wedding and i thought i could write a little note to let you all know that i am still alive. and i just got a new 250G external hard drive formatted just for mac and i am so excited!

top five childhood memories, or at least five memories that i remember

i am attemping to make good on the taggedness brought on by mr. laaavvvaaalllleeer. i think that's how its spelled. or maybe its two "l's." anyhow forgive me if the links don't work and if my memories are boring or my shoes smell bad. sometimes they do.

If you don't follow the rules, it's over.

Rules:
Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs.

1. crashmebabyonemoretime
2. emtotheizo
3. reesarick
4. lavalier
5. gretaseacat

5 things that I miss from childhood

1. riding big wheels down the sidewalk and then bicycles and playing CHiPS and arguing over who got to be bonnie because there was two girls in the bicycle gang.

2. my lincoln logs. they were the best toy ever.

3. going to the beach with the swensons, going to the beach with youth group, going to the beach with my family, going to the beach with my invisible friend.

4. one more thing about the beach... family camp at ft. stevens. i miss that a lot.

5. lots of broken wooden spoons... oh wait, i don't miss that. or the being grounded for half of my life. i do miss not having to pay bills and find places to live and not having to work. can someone adopt me, please?!


NEXT UP...


leela
janaki
adam
du-reet

honk if you're elvis

i had to write a poem in 10 minutes that rhymed and had 10 lines about shoes in class yesterday.
please don't be mad at me for posting it. i kind of think it's funny kind of maybe or not. but i wrote it!

my blue shoes
they are not suede
if they were
i would have it made
the buckles aren't shiny
but the soles aren't worn
i haven't had them since the day i was born
the blue so bright
the blue so new
oh blue shoes i think i love you!

i won't post the non-restrictive poem because it's too good - you might cry

bad toad bad toad

i had bad thoughts about leaving the pizza on the counter, but what can you do? you can't put it away hot and you can't stand by it till it cools off... so when i came upstairs to put it away there was a slice topping-side down on the linoleum. well there weren't any toppings left on it so it was more like sauce-side down. the crisp cornmeal coated crust was peering towards me as i scooped the warm wedge off the floor. blast! i checked the remainder of the pizza still on the counter for markings. it looked clean. i tossed the toppingless crust into the trash can. i wiped the greasy remains of sauce from the blue and green expanse of flooring. i yelled "bad kitty!" but not in a mean voice because they are so cute. i think it was vincent. sherman just lays about all day. but that vincent - he's into everything.......

yum

yum
Originally uploaded by gretaseacat.

i thought i would share some sweet, crunchy goodness with my faithful readers. can't you just feel the sugar coma coming on?

let me count the ways

how much do i love it when a movie is set in england and the characters are supposed to be from there and they have west coast hollywood accents. nary a lilt to be found.
or how about jesus on tbn... he always has a british accent.

i can't remember

what i was going to say?
i had these mind boggling thoughts
that would have... boggled your mind
had i remembered them long enough to write
them in this here blog. is this to be the remainder of
my existence? to always be trying to remember the genius
thoughts that i had. the loss of memory lacquers the sheen of intelligence
over the forgotten memories so that you feel as though you are smarter than you really
are.

in just three easy steps!

i thought i would find out how to create my own scene and share it with all of my faithful readers. here's the linkage:
scene

international espionage

so when i see an asian guy walking a dog i just assume that his dog is american. do dogs have nationalities? they look american. i know they have some of the same dogs in other countries. if i went to china and saw the same dog i would still think it was american. is that just american hubris?

i'm so flippin lazy!

A- Age of your first kiss: ?

B- Band you are listening to right now: none, i am so boring

C- Crush: teachers (ha)

D- Dad's name: Terry

E- Easiest person to talk to: Heather

F- Favorite ice cream: chocolate mint cooke (b&j's)

G- Gummy worms or gummy bears?: chocolate covered gummy Bears

H- Hometown: portland oregon

I- Instruments: guitar

J- Junior high: heritage christian school and la pine

K- Kids: hopefully before i'm too old

L- Longest car ride ever: from here to bryce canyon utah or russleville arkansas to new orleans louisiana. not sure which is longer and i don't feel like checking.

M- Mom's name: debbie

N- Nicknames: superstar

O- One wish: rich husband with french or british accent and good teeth

P- Phobia[s]: claustrophobia? fearophobia, i don't know

Q- Quote: "wherever you go there you are" buckaroo bonzai

R- Reason to smile: the sun has not exploded into a supernova

S- Song you sang last: quick make something up... i think it was the song about the ten page pornography paper...

T- Time you woke up today: like before daylight when the stupid garbage men came

U- Unknown fact about me: i'm not as smart as i look

V- Vegetable[s] you hate: lima beans

W- Worst habit: procrastinating - yes! and checking my email 500 times, is that procrastinating or wishful thinking?

X- X-rays you've had: mouth

Y - Years since you've been to church?: i was there last week

Z- Zodiac sign: i hate zodiac, we're in a fight

fo shizzzzel

Your Inner Gangsta by crash_and_burn
What is yo name?
Yo gangsta name be	Cracka Jack Snappa
You ride around in a	Neon Pink H2 Hummer
Yo gang	Slim Shady's Pink Ladies
Yo shoes be	Stiletto heels
Yo dubs be dis big, fool	3,577
How much money you got?	$4.6809335580809e+26
How gangsta are you, bitch?: 83%
Quiz created with MemeGen!

i heart oak lodge uniforms

when you see an elderly person or someone in a wheelchair do you ever feel like running or jumping or dancing around just because you can? i don't mean in front of them, but just as a reminder to yourself of how you take those kind of things for granted. i do.

don't take the screw out

so today we were on division filming jerry's dialog project - chris was the priest and galvin was johnny something or other. jerry always likes to do films with killing and priests and gangsters... so we're on division with a gangster and a priest and our film junk. galvin's parents came in from bend and met us on the street. we're standing there talking and this homeless guy comes and sits in this rocking chair that's outside of the store we're in front of. all of a sudden he says 'hey, are you roman catholic?' chris says 'no, i'm not, i'm just dressed like this for a student film we're doing' and the guy says 'can i talk to you padre?' and chris says 'i'm not a priest' and the guy says 'i know, but can i talk to you padre?' and we're thinking he wants to have confession right there. so chris walks over to him and he says 'i have something for you' as he reaches down towards his belt, lifting his satchel. he pulls out a neon green, plastic gun and holds it out towards chris. 'i want to donate this to your church' he says. chris takes the gun, thanks him and quickly walks away from him. the man says 'don't take the screw out.' 'what happens if you take the screw out?' i ask. 'you'll have to reload it' he says.

antiques roadshow for real

i don't think i posted about this yet, but do i read my own blog?... yes. anyway, i edited with final cut pro and it was super fun and i like it a lot! and my teacher said really really good job on your edit. and and and. i like it. i had coffee today. and guess what, i'm supposed to be doing homework right now, bet you didn't guess that. i can't believe it's may and mother's day is on sunday. last night jerry helped me with a dialog project for intro to video. we filmed my family. i made a two page script adapted from a jack handey fuzzy memory from saturday night live. i did not film it, i recorded dialog. and now i have to edit it and i am afraid that i won't have all of the shots that i need because it is really hard to direct when you are the sound recordist and boom operator. i need to get more help. life is rough. :) must go make storyboards now. have class tomorrow.

vertigo

so i feel like i did when i was a kid and i had to sit at the table for hours until i ate my liver. hours. liver. just writing that makes me feel a bit nauseated. hours. homework. that is what i have. and i sit here. and i wait. hoping that it will get better. and magically become done. maybe if i put sweatpants on that will help. maybe if i check my email one more time. maybe if i stop writing in my blog. just one more word.
pants.

mary

mary
Originally uploaded by gretaseacat.

i just love this picture. i also love how when i was lying on the sidewalk taking pictures a car stopped and a man yelled out "are you okay?" and i scooched up on my elbows as i turned and looked at him and said "just taking pictures" what else would i be doing laying on the sidewalk...

or just crazy?

having a laptop in the "dining room" is sweet! except for when you burn your banana pancakes.
is it synthesis when you open the cupboard to find a glass to pour your orangina in and you pick the blue one because it's a complementary color? or have i lost my mind irrevocably?

get your own tots

am listening to the sound of the furnace rumbling in the wall. well, on the other side of the wall anyway. stupid me, i procrastinated on my homework last week and ended up staying up on wednesday night until 2:30 am thursday and then i had to get up about 3 hours later to get to the 8am class in which the aforementioned homework was intended for. (p.s. i was freaking out and wanting to cry and yell, but mary was sleeping so i couldn't, because i kept messing everything up and i was tired and i don't have a stupid desk to work at, i was using a dinky coffe table and i had to mix like 2o different shades of gouache paint and match values in my red/chromatic piece and my gray/achromatic peice and i had the cutting board on the couch and paper and paint and water everywhere and i got fingerprints in my paint and smears of red and glue and mess and i was so embarassed to turn it in and the only thing i liked about it was my design, but the craftsmanship sucked in my opinion, but of course when we had our critiques mine was one of the better projects and i got an "a-" which i was pleasantly surprised about and made it a little better that i missed out on like 6 hours of sleep) then i was at school until 7pm that day and got home around 7:30 or so and i was just going to take a little nap, i woke up at 12:30am very hot and thirsty and groggy and disoriented. i got a drink of water and read a little c.s. lewis and tried to go back to sleep so i could wake up at 6:30am and so today i felt like i had severe jet lag and i had to force myself to stay up until at least now (10pm) because i really could have gone to bed at 7 again, and then i would be screwed up for like, infinity. so there. that means this weekend i really shouldn't do anything but homework so that i don't have this problem again. but there's a cool house party with bands and djs at alec's house... sometimes i wish my phone would just ring. and sometimes not.

pornography

is the truth pretty much always offensive?

therefore i am

mmm i love tea. is good. very good. love new friends. am so impatient. have been putting off homework for 6-8 hours today. what is wrong with me? have gotten laundry done. almost. i miss my old friends in walla walla. a lot. am learning about philosophy. i think. not sure what else. guess i will really finish laundry now.

twisty

am taking many new classes. five, in fact. is a new term, in fact. was wanting to quit last week. not so sure this week. have an internship. hoooooray! am assistant editor for excellent documentary. well, it will be when it's done. am tutoring my sis. am making jewelry. when will i make blockbuster movie? never. will be indie queen. or emo-star. am currently trying to write emo songs. am inspired by beck-like ex-teacher. will be friends one day. am crushing on cute boys. boys. boys. am irritated with boys. cute, flirty boys.
classes are; pre-college math = i don't speak the language storyboarding = drawing is torturous, but have a lovely teacher argumentation and research = will kick my behind, very much color theory = will be interesting, not sure yet intro to video = i love, love, love, love, love, co!
the end.

nevermind

i got an a on my freud paper, and an a- in the class (critical thinking and logic) and my teacher said that i could email him and we could go to coffee sometime. and he looks like beck.

fire walk with me or something

yeah, so... i'm on spring break now!!!!!!
it's really weird to not have homework. i can just watch the first season of twin peaks that i got at the library (love the library!) for hours on end. until it's over and then i need to get the second season...
we screened all the senior films at the hollywood last night. it was pretty fun. my name was up on the big screen. it was tight fo sho.

oh yes, since you are dying to know - i finished my paper, but if you want to read it in it's entirety you will have to send in a formal request.

because i know you were so waiting for this.... here is the first half of my paper!

In this essay I will discuss the psychoanalytic approach to art interpretation; including the idea psychoanalysis has of the artist and artistic production, the basis for interpreting the meaning of works of art, and the relationship between art and psychoanalysis. I will be using Freud’s essays entitled “Jensen’s Gradiva,” “The Moses of Michelangelo,” and “The Uncanny” to help illustrate these relationships.

Sigmund Freud came up with the very idea that there is an unconscious motivation for artistic creation. Freud was committed to understanding and interpreting art and his view of art interpretation was to give meaning to the work of art itself, as well as figuring out why the viewer of the art was moved or affected by that particular work. The answer he came up with was that the work of art somehow connected with the viewers’ unconscious and caused some kind of emotional stirring. The essays that he wrote about art were written as illustrations for his theories. (Writings on Art and Literature, xi)
(abridged version)

panoramic

panoramic
Originally uploaded by gretaseacat.

yeah
i had to draw this for my drawing final.
i like to take pictures way better than drawing.
btw - drawing was last term. i'm still bitter.

but guess what - i had photography this term and you wanna know what we had to do jimmy? we had to draw a picture of what we were going to photograph before we could take the picture. is that some kind of sick joke?!

not a problem

So, here i am blogging, i have a 5-6 page rough draft of a paper due at 9 am. i am getting an A in procrastination! here is what said paper is about, because you are dying to know.
drawing on "jensen's gradiva," "the moses of michelangelo," and "the uncanny," discuss the freudian/psychoanalytic approach to art interpretation. in the course of addressing this issue, consider, for example, the idea psychoanalysis has of the artist and artistic production, the basis for interpreting the meaning of works of art, the relationship between art and psychoanalysis, and/or the reason freud chooses to focus on specific works of art/artists. of the three essays, 'the uncanny' is peculiar for a number of reasons: discuss the essay and the manner in which it relates to freud's general approach to and interpretation of art.
what time is it????

nothing

i feel so unsafe.

what tree?

when i was in walla walla (or the wallas) i decided that "i am kind of immune to stop signs." or rather, that i was "kind of immune" to just about anything. it was funny at the time. what i mean is, i thought it was funny.

what the crazy?

what do you do when you're hanging out with people you think are really cool and you want to be friends with them and then they start doing something bad? i went home. sad.

sunset

sunset
Originally uploaded by gretaseacat.

have your people call my people

yeah, so I got another promotion - line producer. i had to look that one up... today i worked on a powerpoint presentation for lala monkey and then i went to the oregon film and video office and learned how to use their data-base to scout locations. yesterday i spoke with jeffery at ryan artists to get contact info on the talent jonny wanted to cast and stuff. what?

campbell's soup is mmm mmm good

i got a raise yesterday from jonny, and orrie promoted me from p.a. to 2nd d.p. - sweet! too bad for alec. he wrote 'tammy is a bad pa' on my calculator. he's just threatened by me and he can't spell my name right, flippin' idiot! eat your ham alec! he did offer to let me play a vagrant opera singer who gets coffee thrown on her by an insane business woman in his commercial...

It's so basic

It is because logic only needs to deal with the form of arguments to determine issues of validity, and validity is its only concern, that it uses symbols to stand in place of elements in ordinary language. It does not use, and does not have to use, particular propositions like 'Sarah is standing on her head' in discussing validity, that is, the question of what follows from what.

it's too early to read this! maybe I'll try again after food.

don't lick the spoon

if you get applesauce and there's a bone in it, send it back.

how you like me now, holmes?

You Are 22 Years Old

22 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

okay jimmy

i think i am going to start writing my blog in spanish.
now, to learn spanish...

killing me softly

why does a flip phone make me feel so fancy?