Good things come in 3s

Billy Mernit has a wonderful post about the return of romance. Hollywood Friend A (like that?) was just expounding to me this afternoon about the excess of cynicism in romantic comedies, and I thought Billy's post was a nice complement.

Someday I will demonstrate my domestic charm by making some very lucky boy this. Right now, it's too much effort.

Also, I'm for Team Tenley.

It was my birthday.

This was my first time being home for my birthday in five years. Actually, that's not even technically true, because I was technically in Virginia Beach for my birth-date. And I was sorta just going to dismiss it. But my mom found an Irish pub restaurant that had Irish music on Sundays, so last week instead of watching football (it very nicely worked out to be on a day without a football game. Elsewise who knows what we would have done) we went out to dinner. I requested "Galway Girl" from the musicians, the only, erm, "appropriate" Irish song I know. It was kinda like this --


Except instead of Gerard Butler it was two adorable Irish gentlemen who'd come over to America to escape the potato famine. And instead of young twenty-something native Irishfolk the patrons were families or other elderly Irishmen and women who had a surprisingly aggressive presence on the dance floor. My nephew wouldn't dance for fear of being trampled.

Then we went home for cake and ice cream. Now you must understand that growing up, we always had pretty extravangantly decorated cakes. We had castles and trains and scenes from Star Wars. My mom tried very hard to either fit the theme of the party or to have our cake symbolize something that had been important to us in the past year. When we got home, my sister informed me that I'd have to decorate my own cake. I enjoy all things baked and delicious, so this wasn't a problem.

First she pulled out a sheet cake. Then she started making the icing. When I walked into the kitchen, it was a lovely gray color. At this point I was really thinking it had something to do with second graders and education, like they were going to make me do simple math on my cake and send me into the shakes out of anxiety. But no, I was instructed to wash my hands thoroughly, which I did, and the cake was set before me. And then I got to do this --


I stuck my hands on the icing --


I signed my autograph --


And I had my very own edible piece of Hollywood legacy. Screenwriters only make Grauman's Chinese Theatre if they're also directors or stars, but I got a chance to practice just in case. My family did pretty well, didn't they?

Amy Goes to the Movies

First of all, Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland is looking more and more amazing. And last night I found out it's going to be in IMAX 3D. Not gonna lie, I might be more tickled about Alice than I ever was about Avatar.

Of course, when they make a biopic about me, I will be played by Helena Bonham Carter. Because, you know, that makes sense, considering she's about 15 years older than I.

Curly hair sisterhood. Never mind that she plays mostly twisted characters.

Last night I went to see When in Rome. It was free movie night, so no, I did not go out of my way and pay to see this movie. It was actually a second choice anyway. We were going to see Up in the Air, but it was sold out. When in Rome was actually funnier than I expected, though still absolutely ridiculous. Let me tell you, the audience did not laugh like that when I saw Leap Year. And I had difficulty distinguishing Will Arnett from the magician character, especially when Jon Heder used "illusions!" instead of "tricks."

versus --

Alliance approved

Since I'm (sorta) writing a rom com right now, I've been thinking a lot about the stereotypical characters that seem to be really tired from running the gambit recently. I think this especially concerns female characters, who are often writing flat or shallow. As When in Rome opened, HS Friend L leaned over and whispered to me, "Let me guess -- another anti-love uptight workaholic." And yes, Kristen Bell even monologued about how she didn't need a relationship because she was married to her job.

I haven't done any hard research, but I'm pretty sure most of the Hollywood produced rom coms of the past few years have featured career-driven female leads. These numbers radically peak when you examine Katherine Heigl films alone. But what's on the flip side? If Katherine Heigl can be the spokesperson for the female rom com lead stereotype, who represents the male characters? I used to think that women were being short changed in this laziness of character development until I realized that the boys don't fare much better. They are the models of man-boyhood for every teenage boy who sees Knocked Up to aspire to. The "opposites attract" model of the last decade has been workaholic uptight responsible woman clashes with laid back fun loving man boy. Billy Mernit is really the guru here. He talks a lot about it - and with much more eloquence than I - on his blog.

I understand why. I understand that the biggest transformation will occur if you have one character who's focus is not on love but on their work. I understand that the female audience being targeted is increasingly more educated and professional (and the corresponding cultural question of whether or not a career is just a woman's placeholder for a relationship). I understand that having an oppositional female character allows the female audience to play into the wish fullfilment of being pursued. I understand this is the easy way to write a rom com because that's the way I want to write mine and it's a real challenge to figure out how to flesh out my characters so that audiences will see something new.

Maybe this is why films like (500) Days of Summer are so refreshing. Finally -- the audience is introduced to someone new.

Good Car Music

Today I went to the library to pick up the last season of Alias (ahhh! Season Four ended crazily! I never could have handled the months between the finale and the premiere). I ran right to the shelf where they are -- and it wasn't there! Luckily, I had a second library location. But I couldn't just leave the library without getting anything because that would look weird and Super Cute Librarian was there so I had to get something (Hey! Don't you judge me...). So I found a book with interviews of screenwriters that I should read but probably won't and went to check it out. I took it to Super Cute Librarian, who said --

"Wassup?"

I probably just made him nervous.

I've been poking at my rom com idea. It's difficult to start it in earnest. Because I'm lazy.

Anyway, I've been trying to outline it and such, but I quickly get lost in the second act because I haven't done any research yet (seriously. Who wants to do research after college? No one. Wish I had an assistant already) and without a second act I have no clue what will happen in the third act. The third act of the rom com is usually the point where the two meant to be lovers get together, but not having plotted a second act I'm not sure which candidate it will be, if any.

And I haven't solidified the theme yet. The third act is going to play the theme out to its fullest. Since I don't know the theme, who my protag is going to end up with. Or I could play the theme very realistic and not have her end up with anyone. (I'd love to say I'm writing the next (500) Days of Summer here, but I'm not. Hello, commercialism, goodbye, realistic endings.) My favorite possible theme was just because one guy is a sleaze doesn't mean they all are.

But really, I think it makes for a more enjoyable writing process if the theme is a question, not a statement. It's more fun to have your character grapple with questions like are all guys sleazebags or just the ones she's dated so far? Do all men have dysfuntional relationships or is it really her? Sometimes it's more fun to explore a question than pontificate a theme. (And just so we're clear, those are my character's questions. Definitely not... mine) Then your characters are more than just pawns in your story's soapbox. They are the story.

Lipstick Jungle

Dude.

I had a rough day at work yesterday. And the weird thing is, it didn't really happen until after 3:00.

Let's just say there's a hot button issue at work right now. On the two sides of the issue, I happen to be in the minority group. And everyone knows because at a meeting one day I very publicly and very articulately expressed my concerns with the majority. Well, apparently I've become the occasionally leisure topic. Kinda weird, finding out people are talking about you and not to you. Kinda weird, not being able to ask questions and investigate (which could, you know, change my mind) because of the simple fact that I'm already suspicious to the majority. I was so perturbed that I ate a bowl of ice cream, not even because I wanted it, but because I desperately hoped that the influx of chocolate would work its emotional magic.

Anyway, today wasn't so bad, and people don't really worry me because the people I work closely with understand where I'm coming from, I think. But it's given me a lot to think about, the juxtaposition being standing up for yourself against keeping your head down and going with the flow. Is the likelihood of change alter the worth of the risk? Do you stand up for yourself on principle, or do you only risk it when it might actually make a difference? What does that say about your character?

I've been bold in a couple situations over the past week or so, and none have turned out exactly rosy. But the same reason that convinced me to stand up at the meeting in the first place still convinces me that I've been making the right choices. I'm setting precedents for myself. If I hadn't of stood up in front of a hundred or so people and publicly branded myself as unpopular, maybe I wouldn't of had the guts to demand more respect in my relationships this past week. It was terrifying, and my legs were actually shaking and I talked too fast, but I think it made me different than the girl who could have just sat back and let all her frustrations and questions go unanswered as the few bold minority got pounded. So talk away, people.

Just make sure I have some Scrubs reruns and a pint of ice cream.

Confessions (Part 2, apparently)

Readers, I have to tell you something. I've already come clean with friends and family. You are my next confessor.

I watch the Bachelor.

First of all, I'd like to apologize to you, scripted television. Besides from my fling with America's Next Top Model, I've stayed pretty faithful to you. I understand how threatened you are by reality. And also, I want to have a job some day. So I fully support you.

Second of all, give me a break --


Yeah, I see you all running for Hulu now.

I've been thinking about why I've allowed myself to get sucked into this show, especially since people take you a little bit less seriously when you pick the Bachelor over 24 on a Monday night. The show is way too long, you know the editing is "creative," and the dates are completely annoying (first of all, I didn't know people could giggle that much and not hyperventilate. Also, all they ever seem to talk about is how much fun they're having. Do they ever have real conversations and actually get to know each other?).

Here's my hook on the Bachelor. I love trying to catch them in the lie. My favourite scenes are when Jake runs off to ask Chris if he can send more girls home and the crew gets caught in the camera's lens like Bambi. And all the questions, trying to puzzle out reality. Is Vienna really a psycho prima dona or was it in the contract for all the girls to gang up on her? Will Jake ever stick to the contracted number of girls he's supposed to eliminate each week or will he slash them like Black Friday prices? Is Michelle diagnosable or was she just edited that way?

Could this really work? Do these people really expect to find love while they're being followed around by USC grads in torn jeans and jaunty knit caps? How can Jake have feelings for that many people at once? What will the relationship last post fairy tale finale? Malarky, is this what culture really accepts as love these days? Is it really love?

So many questions that we will never really know the answers to. Unless, maybe if we watch closely...

You know...

...things are taking a downward turn when "Bad Romance" actually makes you think of someone.

So Saturday is my birthday. That's, you know, fun. My birthday hasn't always had the best of luck. One year when I was a kid our car was stolen on my birthday. And last year, well.

This year Firefighter Friend, High School Friend L, her husband, and I are all going down to visit other High School Friend S and her husband. Yay, the beach in winter! But seriously, I'm always excited for a good roadtrip and good times with friends.

When I was younger I thought 23 was a clutch year. If you weren't on your way to making it by the time you were 23, you weren't going to make it at all. My opinion has changed slightly, as I am now turning 24 (gracious, mid-20s!). On the flip side, though, I was at an interview the other day where I was asked about my five year plan.

"Well," I said, "I'm turning 24 this weekend. I hope to start my film career by the time I'm 26."

Two more years to pull myself together, right? All well and good, except - I spent 5 years getting this diploma. How many years does it do nothing more than hang on my wall?

Questions for another day. This birthday, it's going to be roadtrips and friends and fun.