Thanksgiving is sort of an odd holiday, I think. It's a day that's dedicated to spending time with friends and family... though there's nothing to really *do.* Not counting the actual meal - which takes all in all what, maybe an hour to eat? - my family doesn't really have any traditions or activities anymore that we do on Thanksgiving. I mean, the parade and the football games are on TV, but that doesn't mean that we're all watching them. So then it becomes this awkward dilemma of what to do with your family when your family's not doing anything.

So I read Twilight.

Let me explain myself. Everyone was aware that the movie opened this weekend, right? We looked at the box office in my industry class on Tuesday, like we always do, knowing Twilight was going to be the big winner. The movie recouped its costs in one weekend. On a budget of $37 million, it's made, in less than a week, a worldwide gross on $90 million. But really, that wasn't what made up my mind to read the book. We all knew it was going to be a smash hit. The producers were actually smiling weeks before it was released.

No, what made me pick up Twilight for my recreational holiday reading could be encapsulated in one story. My industry professor went to see the movie with his wife opening weekend, and he told us there was a woman sitting next to them who flat out sobbed for an hour during the movie. Unashamed. Stories like those, and hearing from anyone who's ever picked it up and read it in under 48 hours that it's amazing, convinced me that I needed to experience this phenomen first hand, if solely from a storyteller's perspective. What is it about this book that has stirred so many people, from all different age groups? I'm really sorry, Robert Pattinson, but I don't think it's just you, despite what all the girls in my industry class say. You're not that devastatingly beautiful.

So I read it. And here's my opinion of the book:

The last 350 pages were good. That was when things actually started happening. I got caught up in those and really enjoyed the story there. The first 350 pages ran something like this --

I hated Forks. If only I hadn't come to this miserable gloomy place where every single boy is subtly trying to ask me out. Then there's Edward Cullen, blindingly beautiful, but for a hundred pages all we exchange are trite hellos while I wonder why he secretly hates me. Luckily, after I find out he's a vampire, we talk. A lot. We spend hours and hours in the car just asking each other questions about our lives, how this whole vampire thing works, him marveling at the fact that I'm not afraid, me wondering how he would ever pick a normal girl like me, each conversation ending with me staggering out of the car, gripping onto the door for support, hoping that I don't trip in my incapacitated by his very presence state.

I'm not saying it was a bad book. It was good. I enjoyed it. I'll probably read the others over Christmas break. I'll almost definitely watch the movie at some point, to make my case study complete. But I'm not sure I've got it yet - what it is that made this such a phenomenon. I think I'm going to start asking people, but if everyone answers, "Because Edward Cullen is amazingly perfect," I may renounce the books altogether.

(I don't know, maybe that results from my cynicism on love stories, and how they're the most difficult to write. Let me just say that I thought the relationship was only nominally interesting/believable until the end.)

"I promise you I will learn from my mistakes"

Facebook has a ridiculous number of applications now. Like really, it's getting a bit obscene. But one of the great things it does is let you stalk every single move your friends make. One of my friends posted a link to the video of "Fix You" by Coldplay and added the simple comment "World Peace."

I'm a big Coldplay fan, and I don't really think of world peace when I think of them, but I hadn't heard the song in a while (silly computer being dead and all), so I went ahead and clicked on the video. Not only is the song brilliant and amazing, but at the end of the "Fix You" video they have footage from a live concert. Dear H.D. has gone to a Coldplay concert and described this moment for me, and how everyone's just bawling. Just watching the video stirs emotions.

Then a few weeks later I got to go to a Switchfoot/Relient K concert. Really, music blows me away sometimes. Being in an auditorium with hundreds of other people, all singing along to songs that have integral meaning to each of us, is an incredible experience. I think art is often considered a luxury. It serves no functional purpose. It's subjective. It's often manipulated to conform to commercial whims. But when you go to a concert, when you read a book so often its binding breaks, when you find yourself watching the same movie over and over again, it's impossible to image life without art. The expression, the connection, the transformation that is possible. I don't think I'm an idealist when it comes to the influence of art. I just think that too often, we don't even realize how much we depend on it. You don't believe me, go play some of your favourite songs. I doubt that you like them because of their clever lyrics or because of their musical genius. I bet you like them because they connect to your life in some way. A personal connection like that, isn't that one of the most powerful connections of all?

"Nobody said it was easy; nobody said it would be this hard."

Welcome to the Twilight Zone

Things have been going awry here in the space/time continuum. For one, October was a lot shorter than a month. I feel like I went to bed one night and woke up and it was Halloween - and I don't even sleep that much! Not only that, but the physical area of this town has been slowly stretching. It now takes me 1.5x the amount of time to get to the USB as it did at the beginning of the year. If I didn't have to walk there so ridiculously much it wouldn't be such a big deal... *grumblegrumblegrumble*

So, apparently, what I've heard is, where I go to school, well, it's kind of a big deal. In the top twenty five in the nation or something. So how is it that Monday night I can collapse exhausted on my bed, get a power nap at midnight, drag myself up again at 1:30 to wrangle together a response essay for a lit class on John Milton's freakin Paradise Lost, and get a response back from my professor the next day that it was an "excellent response" and that it's good enough for me to consider turning into my term paper.

Shouldn't people be expecting more of me than this??

Why Our Brilliant B-School is the Fault of High School English Classes Everywhere

I knew this trend existed, I did, but I feel like I've seen it manifested a little bit more recently. People picking majors based on what careers will get them the six figures, figuring out specialties based not on what they enjoy but on which has the slightly bigger paycheck. Really? Really, people?

Don't your high school English teachers make you read Death of a Salesman?

My esteemed friend H. D. Martin said once that she wants to write for the "middle class crap." And if you're carefully watching, you can see exactly what she means. Most of your friends are probably missing out on their lives, and they don't even know it. Art is one of those things that tries to wake people up, point out questions and problems, study dilemmas, not often give answers but at least gets you thinking. The thing is, I'm not sure many people have spent time thinking about their lives in relation to their careers. And just why is it so important to be making the most amount of money in your field as possible. Everybody's chasing the American Dream now but maybe someone's forgotten to get some real sleep on it.

I am not a huge fan of Death of a Salesman. I find it long and tedious. It really hits you over the head. Which is why high school counselors should make everyone of their students read it as part of the college application process. And then write a two page response paper about it.

I've been ruminating on this because I had an idea for a screenplay about a young man who has the commendable middle class lifestyle but goes through several life changes about how that's not enough (cheesy in one sentence like that, yes, and without half the plot). It's a "coming of age" story in a different sense, in a sense when someone realizes that their B-school diploma is just a plaque on the wall. As I was thinking about this, realizing that it has so many themes of the tedious Death of a Salesman, I had to wonder if we needed another, reinvented Death.

The sad thing? I think we do. Maybe the B-school does need another prerequisite course in their major: "Your Career and how Art has deconstructed the myth that it will lead you to Happiness." A cumbersome course title? Maybe. But appropriate? I think so.

Plan B

I was walking with a friend the other day, talking about our (collective) futures, and he was referencing me and another friend, saying, "Honestly, I just don't see you two going in the same direction."

In the past year or so I've found this both a frustrating and amusing comment. Frustrating because I think to say it, people have to make huge assumptions that most people are really not qualified to make about another person. Amused because if they know where my life is heading, I do wish they'd tell me.

I've learned that while long term plans are a good idea and practical, it's also very practical to make sure that you're aware they will probably change. So when people ask me about my post graduation plans, they go somewhat along the lines of "Well, I think I'll probably move to California... and we'll see what happens..." (After a friend A. laughed at me, I've stopped including the preceding "If I fall in love and get married and have a reason to not go to California...") To be honest, California is my Plan B. In my chosen career path, that's a bit frowned upon. People expect you to sell your soul for a chance in this industry. Screenwriter Billy Ray (Shattered Glass, Breach) came by the other week and talked with us, and he talked about getting an Oscar, how badly he wanted one, and not just one but several, and his intensity was riveting and a little disturbing. That's the passion expected of people in the film industry. But do you really want to spend your life chasing after a little golden man? I mean, I will definitely want one, and strive to produce work deserving of one, but it's all part of Plan B, you know?

What's Plan A? I don't know. I'm leaving it open. Because moving to California and becoming a struggling filmmaker who lives in a cardboard box on the beach, that can't be it, you know? It's not a bad, plan, really, and I can definitely see components of it in the ambiguous Plan A. But I'm just being cautious. I've already had the opportunity to learn, at age 20, that your career isn't everything. And so I can't make it Plan A.

My Friends are too Cool

Today I got car splashed twice. Before last winter, when I got snow splashed, I thought that only happened in movies.

I got some pretty cool news today. Not quite like winning the Nicholl, but it's still pretty thrilling for me!

Last night I learned not to rummage around in the dark in your duffel in the pockets you know contain razors, even if you think they're capped. They probably aren't anymore.

Do you ever get scared about losing people before they're gone?

Someday I'm going to make a film on how Facebook has changed social relationships. It's going to go on the festival circuit and win a massive number of awards.

Why is pink lemonade pink?

Once upon a time (aka last Monday), I was sitting in a meeting, and the leader was talking he had heard about one family, more specifically the children of the family, who were not able to leave the church because of the love and faith they had found there. He said there was no way they could not be a part of it because of the way the church family had adored them and nurtured them as they grew up. I think these were pastor's kids, which is an even bigger accomplishment.

It was a thought provoking thing to hear, especially in light of what we had been taught the day before. S., during the service, had told us that the church should be the HOPE of the WORLD. That when people are asked what they think will be a source of help and hope, they should be able to say the Church of Jesus Christ, but that even Christians don't believe that. He talked about how the church was the only institution that Jesus founded, and that Jesus asked his disciples to love each other and take care of each other. And quite simply, that we as Christians, need to love the church. It's hard; I think often we don't think about loving the church. But don't we want it to be a place that people have a hard time leaving because of the love they've found there? Don't we want it to be the hope of the world? Don't we want it to be the place and the people that Jesus meant for it to be? What would it take to get us to commit to that?

I am Jack's Dry Sense of Humor

I really need my eyes to get better. No, that's not true. They are better. They haven't been red, painful, or watery since the day it all happened. What I need is to be able to wear my contacts again. I have been inaccurately estimating strangers' attractiveness and failing to recognize friends.

So my friend knows Future Husband's manager (Future Husband being Mat Kearney, c'mon people, keep up). That makes things *so* much easier on me.

I have two classes that are going to rock, one that is mediocre, and two that will be a disappointment, I'm sure (I'll give you a hint: one of the disappointing ones is Spanish, though the fault there is my own). The two classes that are going to rock also intimidate me a lot, but I think we've all learned by now that without a little bit of struggle and stretch there is no progress.

My guy friends have all suddenly discovered my age and consider this to be old. This would not be such a big deal because I *have* recently discovered that if you haven't made it in your career by the time you're 23 you still have a chance. However, as I've been keeping up with all my old friends via Facebook on engagements and weddings, I find myself in a shrinking... equality? with other girls my age. Never fear, I was also reassured today by one said guy friend that there was no way I could possibly find a guy I might think about spending the rest of my life with before I graduate college. Two years, apparently, is just not enough time.

On the other hand, I've been mistaken for someone older than myself twice in the past month. Once was in a class where the girl next to me turned and asked if I was a GSI. The other was in the Metropolitan Museum of Art with H.D. An elderly man approached us and asked me if I was German. When I said no, he told me that I looked remarkably like Assistant Professor Matilda Burgendorf at the University of Munich, or something along those lines. He talked with us for a few minutes and left without trying to sell us anything. Apparently, I just look wise beyond my years.

On the writing front, I have several ideas bouncing around in my head. I hashed out ten pages today on a story I really feel has potential, though the tone of those ten pages is not quite right. I read an amazing piece about the difference between contemporary Rom Coms and ones of the Jimmy Steward, Katherine Hepburn, and Cary Grant era. Hopefully I'll be able to find it again and post the link, because it was really great, and inspired me to try and write a Rom Dram (because I'm not so good with comedy on the written page, though I am truly hysterical in real life) in the tone of Katie and Cary's playful, equal battle of wits. So we'll see how it turns out, but I will be definitely giving it more time and energy to make sure that it comes out better than my last two scripts. (More on my thoughts on my terrible scripts later, because I have been thinking about those too). I actually spent several days just ruminating on this idea, and though everything's not worked out yet, I do feel pretty confident about what overarching themes and plots there will be and what I want to happen in the first half, at least.

The other two scripts I have bouncing around will be built at a slower pace. One is a collaboration piece, so it will take some time working on how to collaborate and the time lag between us. The other is a study of college life, so I will be gradually gathering real life antidotes. It's going to be great, I think, though a little sad and more than a little critical.

Ever buy plastic cutlery for a friend?

The Transforming Power of Film

Well, I'm back from camp. No more sleepouts. No more almost stepping on frogs in the middle of the night. No more star gazing. No more showering with insects. No more Bible Exs or devotions or awesome campers. No more cookouts and ice cream and worship Tuesday night. No more songfests. No more counselor hunts. No more bird names. No more of a lot of things. Until next summer, that is. Cross my fingers.

I didn't get much writing done this summer. Waaay too busy. I've got a few ideas though, so we'll see how it goes in the next couple of weeks.

So I have a friend whose friend had a life changing experience with a movie. He saw Transformers, and it's inspired him. To do what, you might ask.

Join the Air Force.

I don't know whether to be encouraged or exasperated, really. It is, at the very least, revealing, I think. Obviously I'm going to have to see Transformers eventually. On a similar writing note, I got my gentle let down from the Nicholls. I finished Script Frenzy with a horrendous script. So I'm feeling a little pressure to make this next script, if not good, at least a story that I like.