I wasn’t expecting to be hit with a barrage of Seattle scenery right off the bat, but it was perfect. Yes, it made me terribly homesick, but in a good way. I am so proud to come from a city that is so full of life and art. Ferries, Pike’s Place, monorail, Space Needle, I-90 (NOT “the 90,” but I-90), Puget Sound. It’s all so familiar to me, and the footage of late 80′s/early 90′s Seattle was nostalgic and exciting. It brought me right back to the hey-day, something that was just beginning to seed when I was born (and was positively exploding when I was on the brink of adolescence).

Then, onto Andy. Oh, Andy. What would music have been like if you had been able to stop making such terrible choices? It’s obvious that his death is something that the guys still wrestle with constantly. I’ve always wondered what it would have been like if he were still here. He certainly would have been a huge fucking rock star, just like he wanted. Pearl Jam’s acknowledgement of their past and tributes to Andy sprinkled throughout the film makes sure his dream comes true, even if just a little bit. The scene where Ed is singing “Crown of Thorns”, intercut with footage of Andy performing the song, brought me to tears. We miss you, dude (if anyone was in Hollywood tonight and a little red car flew by blasting Mother Love Bone, and the driver was wailing along with “Mindshaker Meltdown” and drumming maniacally on the steering wheel, yeah, that was me).

Most importantly, I think this film showcased what Seattle music was really all about back then. It was about art, family, brotherhood, support, and just a fucking absolute LOVE for music. The loss of Andy and Kurt Cobain shook the scene at different times, but the survivors kept on and kept their memories alive, while at the same time learning from their mistakes. Pearl Jam and Soundgarden are not still rocking hard in their mid forties while slamming dope, I assure you.

My childhood band was severely influenced by both Pearl Jam and Soundgarden and, by proxy, greats like The Who, Led Zeppelin, and Neil Young. I fell madly in love with The Who at a very young age, and have never ended that love affair. Same goes for Zep. But Pearl Jam… Pearl Jam is completely glued to my soul. I can’t imagine life without them in some form. They’ve put out record after record — some I’ll admit that I don’t particularly care for — and they have never, EVER strayed from what THEY wanted to do. They’ve never betrayed their art or vision. I CAN’T watch “Singles” without breaking into a mad air guitar during “Breath.” I CAN’T help but think of the various turning points of my life when I hear songs like “Elderly Woman Behind A Counter In A Small Town” (I’m playing that for you when I come home, Seattle!), “Release,” “Given to Fly,” “Smile,” the list goes on forever. I don’t think I experienced PURE JOY until I had been to a Pearl Jam show, where a wall of sound created by 50,000 voices singing “Better Man” made me vibrate (and yes, cry). I CAN’T listen to “Alive” without busting out some serious air drums.

When I got a little older, Mother Love Bone became my torchlight. I remember the first time I heard their record — I cried, because I knew I had found something so amazingly beautiful that would never be recreated. Still, I took comfort in the fact that out of the ashes of Mother Love Bone rose Temple of the Dog and Pearl Jam. Andy is still in the music, and Pearl Jam’s music is completely unparalleled as far as my life goes. Their records got me through some of the hardest times of my life. The story of Andy Wood was a partial inspiration for my finally getting off drugs and pushing myself to get to where I am today. Too many people are lost before their potential is fully recognized, and on some level, I knew I didn’t want to be one of them.

I know this is starting to sound like Mother Love Bone is my favorite band of all time, but it’s not. In fact, I can’t choose between Mother Love Bone, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam. All three of those bands provided guidance, inspiration, and just plain good ol’ rock and roll at times when I needed it the most. PJ20 captured that threesome completely — it was really a documentary about Seattle music, and focused mostly on those three groups. Spread all of that against a backdrop of my city, my life, and my dreams (I saw the one night only screening in Hollywood, for god’s sake), and I kind of felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.

Maybe some people think it’s silly to place so much passion and energy into music, but I don’t know how to be any other way. My dad taught me that music is a place of solace, a place of freedom, and a place of creativity that can’t be found in any other medium, at least for us. Music defines me, shapes me, and sets me free to push limits and break boundaries. Music got me to where I am today. Without music, I never would have developed such a passion for storytelling and films. Music is usually the spark of an idea for a movie for me. Music helps me sleep, and it keeps me up all night writing. Music is my life, at the very core.

Anyone who loves music MUST watch this film. It is breathtaking, heartbreaking, electrifying, and just plain fucking rockin’. It’s also a more complete education in regards to the “grunge” (I hate that term, but it’s the most recognizable) era than I could ever provide, which I have been trying to do down here in LA.

Peace and music be with you. I am absolutely on fire, and nothing can put me out. Thank you Ed, Stone, Jeff, Mike, and Matt for baring your souls and bringing us such a complete vision of a story that just can’t be ignored. I love you. No, really, I love you. Really.

I’ve been meaning to do a blog post for a while now. I had delusions of writing a weekly post throughout film school to chronicle the work and particulars of what happens on a day-to-day basis. Yeah, not going to happen. So, I’ll write up huge posts like this one (probably without proofreading, so don’t judge) or little blurbs as I find the time. Which will probably be steadily decreasing with each passing day. So here we go — I’ll include links to the professors’ IMDB pages, for those of you interested. UPDATE: I will probably not do this again, because it was tedious as hell. So enjoy it this time.

Suffice it to say, I am busier than I have ever been in my entire life. And I love every single bit of it.

Los Angeles is an odd beast, but is actually really similar to Seattle in a lot of ways. There’s traffic. It’s THE SAME TRAFFIC. The main difference is that there are more freeways in LA to clog up, and the span of time that traffic jams take up is a lot bigger. Still, if you’ve sat on the 520 bridge or I-5 in Seattle for any length of time, clenching your fist and grinding your teeth and trying to un-numb your ass, you won’t be shocked by the state of Los Angeles traffic. There are also bad neighborhoods in Los Angeles. As there are in Seattle. Or New Haven, CT. Or even Boise, ID. I think the main danger in Los Angeles is that I don’t know exactly where these neighborhoods are, whereas in Seattle I would never even THINK of setting foot in White Center or Rainier Beach by myself. To that end, I’m a little more aware of my surroundings, and a little more cautious, but I don’t feel unsafe or threatened. Oh, and as a general rule, I don’t venture south or east of campus. Ever. Also, it’s hot here. Not unbearably hot, but much hotter on a consistent basis than I’m used to. And the sun! It’s ALWAYS out! Every morning my roommate or I opens the door and says “look, another beautiful day.” I’m definitely okay with that. I think my vitamin D deficiency back home was a bit more severe than I realized.

But this post is about USC Film School! So without further blabber, here’s the basic breakdown:

CTPR (Cinema-Television Production) 507: Production I. This is the monster of a class that is actually three classes in one. That’s right, on paper it’s one class, and we’re paying tuition for one class. However, we meet three times per week in different capacities, and are going to end up working with around a dozen different professors. I definitely feel like I’m getting my money’s worth. Having 3 professors working with around 13 students during a single session is pretty unheard of. We have two core professors, Miles Watkins and Linda Brown. Miles is our go-to project approval guy, and Linda is our cinematography guru. We also have an Student Assistant, Lucy, who is downright phenomenal. She is all over the place with us, and she is always available if we need help or have questions. I’ve emailed her with questions a couple times, and she’s ALWAYS emailed me back within 2 hours. Keep in mind she’s a student assistant AND  a grad student, so it’s pretty amazing how accessible she is. We love her We also learn editing, sound, producing, and directing from other professors. We meet with Linda on Tuesdays for 3 hours to learn cameras, lighting, etc. This week we learned basic lighting and how to set up Fresnel lights and C-stands. We also learned what a C-47 is (it’s a clothespin. I shit you not) is and how to use flags, nets, and scrims to control our lights.

We also meet with Peter Robinson on Thursday nights for 3 hours to learn directing — right now we’re preparing to discuss scripts we got last week and had to break down individual scenes to get at the meat behind the words. Pretty soon, we’ll be assigned a scene from an existing movie, and we will have to cast, shoot, and edit that scene with real actors and locations. I think this is designed to be our practice shoot before our first project, which is kind of a practice before our second, which is a practice before second semester. But we get graded on all of it, of course.

Our sound, producing, and editing time is Thursday mornings for 4 hours with several different professors. For example, last week and this week our Thursday morning time was/is spent with Brenda Goodman and Pablo Frasconi, and we’re learning producing. Next week we’ll be working with Tony Porter on editing, and we’ve also had a tutorial workshop on editing with Avid (and have another one in a few weeks) with Reine-Claire (edited Space Jam and, to my horror, It). We’re doing sound sessions with Midge Costin, and will be having others that I can’t think of off the top of my head.

507 is centered around learning the most basic aspects of filmmaking, and applying those to two short projects. Project one (P1) is a 5 minute film with no dialogue (but mandatory sound design, i.e. using environmental sound or effects to achieve a certain mood). We are each responsible for all aspects of the film: producing, directing, cinematography, sound, and editing. Our 507 sections are divided into 3 groups for the projects, and I am in the last group to make P1. I will shoot during the second weekend of October, and edit the following week (by the way, there is no cell service in the editing labs, so expect to pretty much not hear from me that week). P2 comes directly after that, and is a little more involved. For P2 we will be divided into small crews — one will direct, one will shoot, one will edit. P2 is allowed dialogue, and is done on a slightly larger scale all around since we have crews. Our crews will do this three times, and each of us will direct, edit, and shoot a P2.

CTPR 510: Concepts of Cinematic Production. This is a lecture class run by Pablo Frasconi (same guy involved in some of our 507 stuff) for the first half of the semester and Art Baum for the second half. In it we learn and discuss, well, concepts of cinematic production, while the second half with Baum is devoted to sound. We will have several guest speakers, just about one every week, to help gel what we learn and to give us different perspectives. This week, Alex McDowell came and spoke to us about world building. He did  the production design for Fight Club, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and several other badass films. He took us through his process of creating fictional worlds. I particularly enjoyed the world he created for a film that’s still in post-production, Upside Down. Next class, we’ll be hearing from Norm Hollyn on editing.

CTWR (Cinema-Television Writing) 505: Creating the Short Film, Professor Rachel Feldman. Meets on Tuesdays for 3 hours. This is definitely a writing course. We have a number of daily and weekly assignments that are ongoing: An artist’s sketchbook to be kept with us at all times so we can record anything that interests us, a dream journal, and a weekly email journal. We also have a number of assignments given each week. This week, we have to observe two different people in real life and then create backstories for them. We have to create characters out of them. One is written in the first person, one in the third person. We have to think of a couple of inciting incidents that are set in opposition to their desires, and then come up with story spines that are in the form of a three act dramatic structure (3-7 words for each act).

In 505 we are always thinking in the context of a five minute film, because this class is spent building our skills and teaching us the art of storytelling with a visual medium in mind the first half of the semester — and then the second half we are actually going to be building our scripts for our second semester (CTPR 508 – Production II) projects. The idea is that we will finish our semester and head into the holiday break with an actual working script so we can jump right into 508 projects when spring semester begins. I think it’s a brilliant concept, and a great way to illustrate the time and detail it takes to produce a script suitable for even a 5 minute student film. And I’m REALLY happy that I can feel like part of 508 is already ready and taken care of, and I can spend the break thinking about that script and different ways of shooting it instead of wondering what the hell I’m going to do.

On top of all of that, I work in the Writing Center at USC 12 hours a week. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. I didn’t realize how much I missed my Writing Center work at EvCC until I got it back at USC. Today I met one of the 095 (stepping stone writing class) students I’ll be working with every week. He’s a football player — an offensive guard and also one of the biggest human beings I have ever seen in person at 6’5″ and over 350 lbs — and an absolute sweetheart. He seemed a little apprehensive at first, but once he realized I actually know what an offensive guard does and that I love football, he eased right up. He also seems genuinely excited to improve his writing, and was really enthusiastic about our brainstorming session once we got going. We had a lot of fun, and I got that Writing Center ego perk at the end of our session: I told him he could make an appointment even on days I’m not working because we have tons of consultants, and he immediately said “oh, I only want to work with you.” Awwww! Overall, I had a really good week at the center so far. I’m amazed at the level of writing I see even from international students. I was so used to fighting students who only wanted to focus on rudimentary grammar and punctuation when their papers were completely nonsensical, so this was a really different environment. These kids actually wanted to work on theses and organization, without any prodding from me!

Most importantly, I have met dozens of people — students, professors, student assistants, staff, etc — who are amazing. A bunch of us film students are getting together weekly for Sunday night dinner. We’ve gone to see John Williams in concert together. We’ve gone to movies together. We’ve eaten 80% of our meals together. We’re a pack, and I feel completely comfortable with the fact that I am going to be working with these people not only for the next three years, but probably the rest of my career. Actually, I’m overjoyed. The School of Cinematic Arts told us that they looked at our applications as if they were casting a feature film, and I think they did absolutely brilliantly. I feel a connection with my 57 fellow students that I’ve very rarely felt throughout my life, maybe 4 or 5 times. The admissions committee really knew what they were doing. Bravo.

So that’s that. I hope this monster post has made up for my absence lately. I have been extraordinarily busy, but it really doesn’t feel like work because I get lost in it, I love it all so much. I’ve finally found what I’m supposed to be doing.

Until next time,

Limes Regiones Rerum

Roo

I GOT INTO USC’S SCHOOL OF CINEMATIC ARTS.

Got the letter on February 25th, and have barely stopped smiling since. The next four months will be a blend of finishing up my bachelor’s, graduating, and moving to Los Angeles. REALLY. ALL THAT AWESOME SHIT IN SUCH A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME ZOMG. And then, once I get to USC? I make movies. I learn every key creative position of filmmaking, and I learn by doing. Over the next three years, I will build up experience in at least one major project in each role: directing, writing, cinematography, sound, and editing. I’ll also have an abundance of projects from the one or two disciplines I choose to focus on. I’ll have genuine contacts in the industry, and I’ll have a portfolio that will be enough to get me a job doing something I love. Getting paid to do something other than sell people luggage.

Most of you who read this already know all this, but I don’t care! I have to keep talking about it to make sure it’s actually real and happening. That, and I wanted to try the WordPress app on my new iPad. My dad and stepmom got me an iPad as an early graduation/grats on getting into USC gift. They are awesome, and I can guarantee I will continue busting my butt and keep on making them proud. Especially with this spiffy new toy. I can do so much to keep organized and other studently shiz I’m not very good at, so grad school is going to be a lot less freak-out and a lot more let’s-make-movies.

My parents (both sets) are amazing, and I’m lucky to have them. This journey has been as much their victory as it is mine.

Also this app is pretty sweet!

I’ll try to post more often.

Oh, and quit smoking today. It’s been about 12 hours, and I’m not feeling too shabby.

Shiny!

Tonight, I went to bed early. I have this nasty cough brewing really deep in my chest that I know was given to me by one of the ruddy, snotty, unwashed, walking germs I came in contact with at the mall over Black Friday weekend. It hasn’t gotten up into my throat yet, thankfully, so I’ve been able to largely ignore it. Still, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea to get some extra rest to help fight off whatever’s lying in wait.

MAJOR FAIL.

I woke up at midnight. Midnight! Two and a half hours of sleep, and I’m wide awake. I’ve done everything I can think of to try and force myself to go back to sleep. Wine, reading obscure Wikipedia articles, writing quick emails and messages to people I haven’t talked to in a while. Nothing’s working. Of course, I have been listening to “Career Suicide” on repeat since I woke up, because I woke up with the song stuck in my head. I woke up practically singing it aloud. Quite random.

Whenever this happens, I can usually find a connection on some deep level of consciousness that explains why my brain is screaming random, seemingly forgotten songs at me. Sometimes it’s just that I realize that I really like a song more than I thought, which is true here, for sure. Then again, there aren’t any songs by The Cliks that I don’t like. Except maybe “Emily.”

I just thought that this one was a little odd. I literally haven’t heard it in months. I guess I’m making up for lost time; iTunes says 34 plays.

The lyrics (written by Lucas Silveira):

So, you’ve come
Look down, my angel eyes
Hold my gun
My heart can’t recognise home

And you’ll say run
I think I heard you come undone

You lose your way
I know I can’t feel that way

You say shut up
Don’t let it shine

I’ll take your heart if
You take mine

Break down in defence
To your consequence
Break down to the sound
I know I hear it now

What’s on your mind?

What’s on your mind?

You say shut up
Don’t let it shine
I’ll take your heart if
You take mine

Break down in defence
To your consequence
Break down to the sound
I know I hear it now
I know I hear it now

—–

Thoughts? Ideas? Interpretations? Fist to my jaw? Ambien?

I’ma be ayight.

Until then, y’all may have to deal a bit more with my self-defeating and emotionally stifling behavior. Sorry boutcha luck.

I think I need a tattoo…

I should have majored in creative writing. Not only is it my strongest suit, it’s what I love. I love creating stories and getting them on a page and bringing them to life. What got in my way was, as usual, me. Trepidation and uncertainty clouded my judgement when it came time to declare a major and pick a fork in the English major road, and my insecurities prompted me to take the easy way out and major in English literature. Great. Books. I like books. Well, I used to like books until I became a literature major. I’m sure I’ll like books again someday, but right now I’m feeling like if I never turn another page it’ll be too soon. And this isn’t just limited to books; I can barely stomach magazines or user’s manuals or billboards anymore.

I’ll try to explain these insecurities as best I can: that fork in the road was a classic Disney fork. The literature side was sunny, birds were chirping, and there was a promise of cake and fairies and glittery shit at the end of it. The creative writing side was dark and ominous, with gnarled trees and swamps full of mutant insects and probably horrible clowns lying in wait. Well, I took that sunny side, and before I knew it, all that glittery shit had vanished. There will be cake, but it will be chocolate rather than yellow. Looking back at the creative writing fork, it’s still gloomy and scary, but there’s a sign I missed, hidden behind the mist of my feelings of not good enough: “YELLOW CAKE, FAIRIES,  AND GLITTERY SHIT — STRAIGHT AHEAD.” The end result of that path that’s now out of reach is YELLOW CAKE AND GLITTER GODDAMMIT.

The bottom line is, I allowed my fears of inadequacy to dictate my decision, and I made the wrong one. I’m a writer, I’ve always been a writer, and I’ll always be a writer. I’m not a lit buff. I just don’t particularly care about why Foucoult is obsessed with the panopticon or why Benjamin is suspicious of the effects of film on the masses. I don’t care about critical theory or post-modernism or restoration. I’m sure that I’ll use these things at some point in my writing, for cripe’s sake how could I not, they’ve been bashed into my head repeatedly for over a year now to the point where I look at road signs and start thinking “now what is the real, deep, abstract meaning behind that sign?” What I do care about is learning how to take words and turn them into musical notes. How to flesh out a character to the point where I know her better than I know myself. I want to get better and absorb everything I can about the craft, and because I was too unsure of my abilities, I’m squandering my time writing drivel about stuff I really don’t understand or, for that matter, care to understand.

Now, that decision is coming back to haunt me as I’m getting ready to register for one of the only undergrad classes I was REALLY excited about. Yes, English 487, Screenwriting, now appears to be limited to creative writing majors only during registration period 1. Well, that’s cool, I could just wait until period 2, right? With 20 spots in the class, I doubt it.

It could be nothing; I emailed my advisor immediately and asked for clarification. It’s certainly possible that she can pull strings to get me into the class. It’s possible that the stupid time schedule is mistaken, as it often is. Still, that little moment of panic spurred me to think back to that day when I decided “no, I really don’t want to compete to get into the creative writing major by submitting my mediocre work for review.”

I just need to have a break from this ridiculous barrage of theory, which is basically akin to taking a jackhammer to a text until it isn’t even recognizable anymore. Seriously, I looked at the word “buttressed” for so long earlier, it started looking like hieroglyphics. Why can’t these damn theorists just say “supported?” What is so bad about the word “supported?” “Buttressed” is a hideous word. Hideous! Look at that word and tell me it’s attractive, that it makes any sentence sing. “I’d like to thank my family and friend for their undying, unwavering BUTTRESS.” Yeah. I rest my case. I can’t help it — I’m a writer.

I just want my frickin’ yellow cake and glitter, dammit.

I wish I could be 4 again.

LYRIC OF THE DAY:

“I got a picture of the way I looked when I was 3, I came out laughing, I came out screaming, I came out dancing. And we go on and on and on and on and on.” – “More For Me,” Tegan & Sara

OMG YOU GUYS I WAS IN THE SAME ROOM AS THE PRESIDENT TODAY OMG.

When this rally at the UW was announced last week, I knew I wanted to go, but I wasn’t sure if I would actually make it. For one thing, I would have to be on the bus at 8 FRICKIN AM, which is not something I’m very fond of. For another, it meant enduring horrible traffic, crowds, lines, security, and protesters. Definitely NOT a few of my favorite things. Still, I knew that this would be something I probably wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for missing. I wouldn’t have any excuse whatsoever — the damn thing was being held at my school, for cripe’s sake — and I knew that many of my friends would probably have my hide if I didn’t go. So, I forced myself out of a nice, warm bed to venture out to Seattle in the freezing pre-winter morning of October 21st, 2010. And for the record, it was BLOODY COLD.

I was meeting some friends at the rally, and shortly after I arrived on campus I received the following text message: “LONGEST LINE EVER. It ends behind Husky stadium I think…. we haven’t found it yet though….” And y’all, he was NOT exaggerating. As I started walking down the hill towards the stadium, I got a good look at the longest line I have ever seen in my life. It started at the entrance to the stadium, and wrapped around the building as far as I could see (and, as it turned out, it continued on for a lot farther than I could see). It took me about 20 minutes to follow the line all the way back to where my friends were waiting, and by then the end of the line wasn’t even visible anymore. It was EFFING LONG. Luckily, they were giving out free bottles of those 5 Hour Energy Drinks. Talk about trying to fire up a crowd. Over 10,000 people were in that place, and most of them were buzzing like a wasps’ nest.

All in all, it didn’t take us very long to get into the building. Security was very efficient. They told us to expect airport-like security, but I disagree. I didn’t have to take off my shoes, and I wasn’t waiting for like 6 days to get in. They were thorough, and I was frisked by some big burly Secret Service guy. He was pretty friendly, I guess, though not really the type I like patting my thighs and butt. ANYWAY… we really didn’t think we were going to get into the actual Pavilion where the President was speaking. We were sure that it would be full, and that we’d be directed to the overflow seating in Husky Stadium, left to brave the chill with big monitors to sullenly watch all the action on. So, when we were herded into the Pavilion, we were pretty much ecstatic. We ended up on the 3rd row down from the top, directly behind the stage. We didn’t care. The energy in that place would’ve made being strapped to the ceiling seem magical.

Norm Dicks speaking, and the packed floor of the pavilion. Just. The. Floor.

We stood for the National Anthem and the Pledge of Allegiance. I was a little irritated by how many people didn’t take off their hats, though I don’t really know why. I mean, it’s kind of an obsolete rule, it seems. Like no spitting on the sidewalk in Lynden. Wait, that’s still a rule. Huh. Anyway, finally people started coming up to the podium. First was some woman, I don’t know who. I’m sure I could google it and find out but I’m too damn lazy. Then the president of the ASUW spoke, and she was cool. A number of people spoke. Governor Gregoire came out, and I looooooove her. LOVE. She’s great. Then, all was quiet.

We actually didn’t wait for very long, so it was a little unexpected when the announcement suddenly began: “Ladies and Gentlemen, The Pres…….” and that was all you could hear.

The Hec Edmundson Pavilion practically lifted off the ground.

It erupted.

It was vibrating.

And then out came Senator Patty Murray, with President Barack Obama at her side. And just when we thought it couldn’t get louder, it did. I don’t know how else to articulate that. It just did.

The ensuing pandemonium went on for several minutes before Patty could get a word in edgewise. She made her speech, reminding us of what she’s done for the state, and reminding us what Rossi’s legacy has been. Fittingly, she also said “there’s a reason why his name is Di-NO.” Muah. That got the crowd giggling FO SHO. I mean really. Who has a name like Dino? No offense to anyone out there named Dino, but all I can think of is the dinosaur from the Flinstones. It makes me smile, but lately it’s been making me shiver. ANYWAY. When she introduced President Obama, the eruption started again, and this time it was surreal. The outpouring of emotion was unreal. I’ve never seen or heard anything like that before. The love and respect for that man that the people of Seattle have, that the people of my school have, made me so proud.

I always thought Barack Obama was an incredible speaker. I watched several of his debates and campaign speeches on television, and listened to a few on the radio. He is an orator like no one else that my generation has seen. He manages to convey strength and hope while giving off vibes of humbleness. He made young people believe that we might be able to be proud of our country again, after so much embarrassment and frustration, and he made us believe it because he reminded us that he is one of us. Today blew all of his other speeches I’d seen/heard away. Today, in person, was indescribable. He acknowledged that we have a long way to go. But he reminded us that in order to get things done, we have to get out and vote. We have to mail in our ballots. If we don’t, the Republicans will get the keys back to the car they drove into a ditch during the last decade (I loved that analogy, btw, it was hilarious).  Listening to him speak was inspiring, and that wasn’t just me. The place was practically silent when he was speaking, until he hit an applause line — at which point the place exploded once again.

I feel lucky to have been able to witness something like this. Not only did I get the chance to see one of the most pivotal historical figures of the 21st century speak in person, but I got to see the incredible passion from his supporters, my peers, from my city. It really was an experience like no other. The most awesome. Ever.

Please vote, guys. Seriously. It’s still important.

“If you want to move the car forward, what do you shift into? D. If you wanna go backwards? R.” –Barack Obama (the best quote ever).

“Marlee Matlin was born in BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. BLAHBLAHBLAH, BLAH BLAH BLAH. BLUH-BLAH. BLAH BLAH, BLAHBLAH. BLAH BLAH BLAH (repeat for two pages). Yep, she’s pretty awesome.”

I mean, what the hell? That’s not me. I feel like my voice has been wrapped in bacon, fed to a dog, and shat out onto the page. It’s so dry and distorted that I’m almost afraid to turn it in, in case my real voice miraculously reappears later in the quarter and the instructor is all “PLAGIARIZER! CHEAT! LIES!” (in sign language, of course). The last thing I need is to go to UW jail. I already feel like I’m there half the time anyway.

Nope, still haven’t gotten over this whole “imposter syndrome”/sheer hatred of school thing. It’s weird — once I’m actually THERE, I’m fine. It’s the dragging my sorry butt to the bus or driving my sorry butt down the freeway that’s the problem. The dread — okay, mostly it’s for Art History, I seriously think it’s the most horrible class I’ve ever taken, no joke, guys — is like a bunch of steel bolts swishing around in my gut. It’s strange for me to think that a year ago I was completely twitterpated at the idea of going to this university, and now the thought of going there makes me want to run away (and, in case you need reminding, I hate friggin running) as far and as fast as I can. It’s not the UW itself; it’s still my top choice, and I’m definitely grateful to be there. It’s just SCHOOL. FOR GOD’S SAKE MAKE IT EFFING STOP. I am so sick of taking these classes that are required for my degree but definitely nothing I will ever ever ever use in my life again. I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE 89432894 DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF PORTRAITS OF GEORGE WASHINGTON PLEASE STOP MAKING ME LOOK AT THEM I WILL DO ANYTHING UP TO AND INCLUDING CUTTING YOUR ENTIRE LAWN WITH FINGERNAIL CLIPPERS. Then there’s the two hour English class, which I would probably really like if it wasn’t two effing hours. I mean, really. Who can sit in a classroom for two hours? Okay, maybe some people can, but I ain’t one of them. Seriously. The class starts at 3:30, and I start getting antsy at 3:45 just from the knowledge that holy christ there’s a whole ‘nother hour and forty-five minutes of this nonsense and then I start singing Tegan and Sara songs in my head and making up games where I try to see how far I can get into a song before forgetting part of the lyrics and then I go kinda crazy and have to pull out my phone to look up the lyrics I can’t remember until I get a rather pointed look from my professor at which point I put the phone away and gaze out the door wondering if anyone would be able to hear me scream.

Rinse and repeat.

Yes, I know it will get better. I know this is prolly just some horribly mutated form of senioritis. I know that I will someday like school again (*cough*winterbreak*cough*).

However, as of RIGHT NOW… if school/homework/higher learning had a face, I would bash it to a bloody, unrecognizable pulp.

Hey, there’s my voice! Yay.

I don’t have anything profound or memorable to say about this, really. It just really, REALLY saddens me to know that there is still so much hate bringing about such anguish that leads a person to choose to end his or her life. Sure, we’ve come a long way, but these deaths have been a brutal reminder that there is still a lot of ground to cover.

I’ve been thinking a lot about these kids, and what they must have been going through. I never really had to endure all that much bullying. When it happened, it was sporadic and pretty much as significant as the bullying that most kids, LGBT or not, deal with in school. I think I’ve been pretty damn lucky, actually. I have a great and accepting family and a strong network of friends who love me simply because I’m me. It kind of puts things in perspective. Yep, this quarter of school is going to suck monkey balls and I’m probably going to end up having a big old ulcer forming and brain parts leaking out my ears because I’m going to start freakin’ melting or something because I’m BRILLIANT and decided to take ASL, Art History, and English 302 all at once I mean can’t get much more BRILLIANT than that. Still, I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m not worried about how other people perceive me, I don’t have to deal with hatred on a daily basis, and the worst thing in my life right now is the idea of producing videos of myself doing sign language. Seems pretty tame compared to what those kids were going through.

I’ve been thinking of volunteering at the Lambert House. It’s a place in Seattle for LGBT youth, kind of a safe zone for kids who can’t find that kind of safety anywhere else in their life. My schedule/their hours of operation won’t permit me to do much, but I feel the need to do SOMETHING. I also donated a few bucks to a couple of similar organizations. I’ve been trying to spread the NOH8 campaign’s message, and just generally trying to stay abreast of what’s going on — so I don’t lose sight of it again.

It’s a tough, tough road — and when I came out to my mom, I was a little concerned when she started crying. Then she said this: “I completely accept you. It’s just that your life is going to be so much harder.” Like I said, I’ve been lucky. I only hope that kids like Asher, Seth, and Tyler can find some reassurance and stay strong enough to make it through the rough times, and they’re going to need our help to do it.