11 days to go. SHIT
This entry is dedicated to Maggie, who asked me for it.
So the paperwork is done and in no more than a few days I should be the proud father of a beautiful baby duckling called Santi (only because the zoo people will not let me name him Satan). Apologies to those who were confused by my last post.
School started back up, which explains why I've been something of a non-entity on the internets (except when I'm at work, obviously... so feel free to add my work email-- arv_bua_jfarahlopez@msn.com -- I'm always up for a chat if I'm not guiding some retard from Ohio through plugging his console to the wall outlet). Week 1 is over and it's been a huge relief. Everything's different. New facilities, new teachers, a few new classmates... It amazes me the amount of fucking idiots who think it might be a good idea to study film. I got in an argument the other day with some dickhead over how Michael Bay isn't more relevant to the history of cinema than Orson Welles. You'd think that, regardless of the amount of vacuous Burton-worshipping douchebags I'm surrounded by, the film school crowd would be generally... well, film-savvy. Goes to show.
This is what my days are going to look like from here on 'til the end of June.
Monday-- work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Tuesday-- school from 8:00 A.M to 2:30 P.M, work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Wednesday-- school from 8:00 A.M to 2:30 P.M
Thursday-- school from 8:00 A.M to 2:30 P.M
Friday-- school from 8:00 A.M to 2:30 P.M, work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Saturday-- work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Sunday-- work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Luckily this year I only have school four days a week, so that leaves me with only two days where school and work interlap, but it's pretty tough, especially considering there's a lot of work to be done after school hours as well. Remember kids, I'm a film student, so that's hours and hours either behind a camera or in front of a computer screen, shooting, editing, writing and planning out.
Oh, and I also have no days off. But. I don't care. I've had enough time to be lazy.
My film history teacher is an insanely cool guy who looks like what I imagine I'll look like when I'm 60. His hair even looks like mine. Except his is practically gone except for that small sector on the front which he raises up and it looks like he's been electrocuted. The top part is basically all gone, which is worrying to me because I've been noticing my hair's been thinning on that particular sector of my head as well. Or maybe it's just paranoia. I don't know. Anyway, the point is, I hope I'm never bald.
So I'm overworked and underslept and due to some recent developments, am well on my way to being undersexed as well. Well, possibly. I don't know for sure. You know how breakups are. This just proves to me that I just cannot cross that 8-month threshold. Well, I did this time, but that's kind of when things started falling apart. So you kinda wonder exactly where it is you're going and why something you invested so much time and energy and emotions on suddenly feels so empty and like it never meant anything. And your mind starts wandering and you start thinking about all the windows of opportunity that have been slammed shut in your face due to your own inability or unwillingness to actually take some action. I find that most of the times I'm too piss-scared to take chances that would seem glaringly obvious to anyone else, and I'm constantly second-guessing and chewing it over and before I know it the moment is gone. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I weren't so chickenshit.
And less of a dick, as well. The reason behind the breakup is a piercing. An eyebrow piercing. That she got without telling me and I didn't like. Well, obviously that wasn't the REASON behind the breakup but it triggered an argument that became heated and all the unhappiness and anger and built up jealousy and resentment came pouring out and we said some pretty nasty stuff to each other. It was all very bitter, but done is done. I called her a few hours ago to apologize and set the record straight. I went over to her house and picked up a few of my things. We hugged, she cried and said she was sorry. We agreed to meet for dinner and a movie on wednesday. Which is what we did last time we broke up and that ended up in us getting back together.
But I don't think we are getting back together this time. We're over, but in "good terms"-- a phrase I loathe. "Good terms". "Amicable". It just sounds so backhanded and divorce-y. Actually, that's one of the reasons why I don't think Mariana and I could ever get married. We've broken up so many times I'm pretty sure it would end up in a divorce.
I never wanna get divorced. Ever ever ever.
On one of our final dates we went to see a movie: The Number 23, which was... odd. I didn't know quite what to make of it. I was confused throughout most of it. And I don't mean a good, "what-the-fuck-is-going-on-here" David Lynch type confused. I mean "these people cannot possibly be serious" type confused. It was more comical than interesting/scary/spooky/insightful/whatever it was aiming so ham-handedly to be.
I also saw 300 which I will not comment on because Egg will flame me since I'm sure his geek ass loved that piece of shit.
A word to film producers: Good comic books do not necessarily translate to good movies. Sin City was an exception because it was so beautifully and intentionally over-the-top and campy. This feature-length bloodfest feels painfully earnest in its corniness. It felt like Alexander molested The Lord of the Rings and this crap bloodily forced its way out of Frodo's anus.
In totally unrelated news, people who cheat on their significant others and brag about it with their friends and call it "a man thing" have absolutely no value as men, let alone human beings. If you ever say that or something to that effect in my presence, I will slap you in the face. Shut the fuck up, you fucking child.
Happier news. The BAFICI is back! This of course means I will be mercilessly abusing my student card to watch films nearly for free. I still don't have this year's program, but if it's anything like last year it's gonna be awesome. Work and school will prevent me from hopping from one screening to the other, but I anticipate I will see my share of good films (and probably a couple bores, too, but who cares?). I have 14 days to soak in the glory of international independent (and historical) film.
I have to go now. Because I have an enormous load of laundry and I've been using these pants for like a week.
Good bye.
So the paperwork is done and in no more than a few days I should be the proud father of a beautiful baby duckling called Santi (only because the zoo people will not let me name him Satan). Apologies to those who were confused by my last post.
School started back up, which explains why I've been something of a non-entity on the internets (except when I'm at work, obviously... so feel free to add my work email-- arv_bua_jfarahlopez@msn.com -- I'm always up for a chat if I'm not guiding some retard from Ohio through plugging his console to the wall outlet). Week 1 is over and it's been a huge relief. Everything's different. New facilities, new teachers, a few new classmates... It amazes me the amount of fucking idiots who think it might be a good idea to study film. I got in an argument the other day with some dickhead over how Michael Bay isn't more relevant to the history of cinema than Orson Welles. You'd think that, regardless of the amount of vacuous Burton-worshipping douchebags I'm surrounded by, the film school crowd would be generally... well, film-savvy. Goes to show.
This is what my days are going to look like from here on 'til the end of June.
Monday-- work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Tuesday-- school from 8:00 A.M to 2:30 P.M, work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Wednesday-- school from 8:00 A.M to 2:30 P.M
Thursday-- school from 8:00 A.M to 2:30 P.M
Friday-- school from 8:00 A.M to 2:30 P.M, work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Saturday-- work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Sunday-- work from 7:30 P.M to 2:00 A.M
Luckily this year I only have school four days a week, so that leaves me with only two days where school and work interlap, but it's pretty tough, especially considering there's a lot of work to be done after school hours as well. Remember kids, I'm a film student, so that's hours and hours either behind a camera or in front of a computer screen, shooting, editing, writing and planning out.
Oh, and I also have no days off. But. I don't care. I've had enough time to be lazy.
My film history teacher is an insanely cool guy who looks like what I imagine I'll look like when I'm 60. His hair even looks like mine. Except his is practically gone except for that small sector on the front which he raises up and it looks like he's been electrocuted. The top part is basically all gone, which is worrying to me because I've been noticing my hair's been thinning on that particular sector of my head as well. Or maybe it's just paranoia. I don't know. Anyway, the point is, I hope I'm never bald.
So I'm overworked and underslept and due to some recent developments, am well on my way to being undersexed as well. Well, possibly. I don't know for sure. You know how breakups are. This just proves to me that I just cannot cross that 8-month threshold. Well, I did this time, but that's kind of when things started falling apart. So you kinda wonder exactly where it is you're going and why something you invested so much time and energy and emotions on suddenly feels so empty and like it never meant anything. And your mind starts wandering and you start thinking about all the windows of opportunity that have been slammed shut in your face due to your own inability or unwillingness to actually take some action. I find that most of the times I'm too piss-scared to take chances that would seem glaringly obvious to anyone else, and I'm constantly second-guessing and chewing it over and before I know it the moment is gone. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I weren't so chickenshit.
And less of a dick, as well. The reason behind the breakup is a piercing. An eyebrow piercing. That she got without telling me and I didn't like. Well, obviously that wasn't the REASON behind the breakup but it triggered an argument that became heated and all the unhappiness and anger and built up jealousy and resentment came pouring out and we said some pretty nasty stuff to each other. It was all very bitter, but done is done. I called her a few hours ago to apologize and set the record straight. I went over to her house and picked up a few of my things. We hugged, she cried and said she was sorry. We agreed to meet for dinner and a movie on wednesday. Which is what we did last time we broke up and that ended up in us getting back together.
But I don't think we are getting back together this time. We're over, but in "good terms"-- a phrase I loathe. "Good terms". "Amicable". It just sounds so backhanded and divorce-y. Actually, that's one of the reasons why I don't think Mariana and I could ever get married. We've broken up so many times I'm pretty sure it would end up in a divorce.
I never wanna get divorced. Ever ever ever.
On one of our final dates we went to see a movie: The Number 23, which was... odd. I didn't know quite what to make of it. I was confused throughout most of it. And I don't mean a good, "what-the-fuck-is-going-on-here" David Lynch type confused. I mean "these people cannot possibly be serious" type confused. It was more comical than interesting/scary/spooky/insightful/whatever it was aiming so ham-handedly to be.
I also saw 300 which I will not comment on because Egg will flame me since I'm sure his geek ass loved that piece of shit.
A word to film producers: Good comic books do not necessarily translate to good movies. Sin City was an exception because it was so beautifully and intentionally over-the-top and campy. This feature-length bloodfest feels painfully earnest in its corniness. It felt like Alexander molested The Lord of the Rings and this crap bloodily forced its way out of Frodo's anus.
In totally unrelated news, people who cheat on their significant others and brag about it with their friends and call it "a man thing" have absolutely no value as men, let alone human beings. If you ever say that or something to that effect in my presence, I will slap you in the face. Shut the fuck up, you fucking child.
Happier news. The BAFICI is back! This of course means I will be mercilessly abusing my student card to watch films nearly for free. I still don't have this year's program, but if it's anything like last year it's gonna be awesome. Work and school will prevent me from hopping from one screening to the other, but I anticipate I will see my share of good films (and probably a couple bores, too, but who cares?). I have 14 days to soak in the glory of international independent (and historical) film.
I have to go now. Because I have an enormous load of laundry and I've been using these pants for like a week.
Good bye.