Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Unconventionally Conventional Looks

Film is a male-dominated profession. No question. And film school is a direct reflection of that. There are seven girls and forty three guys in the program. It's a man's world and that's fine. What's not so fine is that all the male screenwriters wrote scripts with characters that are "loosly (pfft) based on their ex-girlfriends." It's how teenage-boy-writers air their not-so-dirty laundry, I guess.

This doesn't sound like too much of a problem, young people "expressing themselves" through cinema. But, it turns out, it's a real problem for me. So far I've been casted in four different movies as a girlfriend who kisses their boyfriend a lot and carries around books. I haven't even begun my career in acting (a career that will never develop, I assure you) and I've already been type-casted. Even my cinematography teacher (who uses me to model during lighting exercises and tells me I look like his wife) says I'm the only girl here who has "unconventionally conventional looks." Now, I know I'm not hideous, but I'm not that attractive either. I wake up every morning, just like the rest of the girls here. Pull my self out of bed, debate on wether or not I have time to brush my teeth, and then pray that my jeans will fit, even if I did eat a quart of fried rice, alone, while sitting cross-legged in front of a mirror the night before.

I really wanted to come here, roll up my sleeves, and do some real filmmaking. The dirty work. Lighting. Lifting. Editing. Anything. But I feel like the remainder of my time here will be spent pretending to be in puppy love with boys I just met, all on screen. At least in one of the movies I'm in, I get to kill a robot at the end. That's something.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

UNCSA: Fabulous

The head of the film department, Jonus (pronounced Yawn-ish)refers to everything as "fa-bu-lous" with his heavy accent. His nationality is still a mystery to me. He gave us a two-hour-long lecture on how me must find our one and only "Superior Objective" in life before we direct any film, and some other Existentialist/ middle-Euro-pride stories. He starts all of his classes with the same youtube video of an older Ray Davies singing "Lola". Needless to say, he's the awesome foreign grandpa I've never had.
My screenplay idea was sanctioned (YAY) and I'm almost done picking my crew. The only problem is finding the right actors. Everyone here is so far up their own butt that they can't possibly act well. Thank you, arrogant kids from California who have Cannon 7d's and the newest $2,000 version of FinalCutPro. I'll be over here in the corner with my little handcam, trying to figure out how to make you express pain when you're daddies made sure you've never felt it before.
Woah, sorry. That was a bit much. It's a wonderful program here, really. The equipment is all state of the art and we get to see movies at the local theater for free.

My roommate (who is in the same film section as me/ has never heard of Wes Anderson, David Lynch, or Clint Eastwood) just turned down her new Britney Spears CD to ask me if I'm "one of those people who don't like things just because they're mainstream." Good one, Roommate. You fascinate me. You really do.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Last Day Pinks

My dog is the worst. I'm going to sell him to David Lynch.

We gave him a "home-hair-cut" for the sake of saving money on a trip to Petsmart. Didn't turn out so great. He's really... pink now.

Leaving for UNCSA in the early morning. Packing is easy when you live out of your suitcase. I'm excited.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Poem Swagg

Just got off the phone with Princeton. I got an award for a poem.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011


Really, Ben and Jerry's? Is Bonnaroo a flavor you want to sell?

MMmmMM. Tastes like dirty hair, weed, and making out with strangers in a pile of someone else's vomit.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011


My Life Is Arrested Development

1) I live in a show-home for a housing firm.
2) Our R.V. basically equates to the stair car.
3) I'm a teenage girl beyond her years who writes screenplays that garner success, but still doesn't have a valid driver's license.
4) I've seen my dad wear lady clothes.
5) A boy with severe aspergers writes me love letters (My version of Mr. F.)
6) I've hid in the attic when company was over on more than one occasion.

All I need now is Steve Holt


This blog post is brought to you by me hopelessly searching for personal essay ideas for Creative Nonfiction Class. Thanks, Ladies and Germs. I'll be here all summer.


1. A brief, informal leave from work, taken by an Aborigine to wander the bush, visit loved ones, or return to native life.
2. That thing where Anna goes to Bonnaroo.

A few pictures

I had my face in Alexis Krauss's crotch when she stage dove. I got the Drums's set list. Bethany has/ liked my poster. Everyone was really nice/ caked in dirt. I'm way too used to clean water. Only three people and one dog died this year. I met Ron Jeremy (Hear that, Ma?!). So much dust. It'll be awhile before I do anything like this again.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

And They Call It Kitty Love

My fandom of/ excitement about anything never gets this girly/ teenie bop/ far. Thursday evening will be an exception.

Lucy owes me one.

What a Powerhouse

On the topic of class shirts for next year:

Mind you, this kid was already asked to not come back to our school next year after he had a Charlie Sheen moment/ was sent to the hospital for a week. You're a rockstar, kid who won't even be at our school anymore. I nominate you new class president.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Anna Does Not Walk Simply into Mordor, I Mean, Bluffton.

Sure, I'm glad to get back home and rest. I haven't been home since march. But still, why do I have to go back to a place where things are like this


and this?

Now, I'm not ragging on my hometown. I've tried to love it. Tried going to the beach. Tried golfing. Even went a week where all I read was Nietzsche and "Lolita" (really, the few literate young people of Hilton Head/ Bluffton? Are those two things [along with "The Perks of Being a Wallflower", LOL DUHH] the only things you can get your hands on? Just saying. I don't get it.

June 15th is film school. Soon enough.

New York Don't Heart You

School has been over for a week. I haven't had time wrap my head around that. It's been all go in New York City. Here's some things I've learned:
1. Public transportation is nice when you don't have to get from Jersey City to your interview in Brooklyn in thirty minutes or less (Yes, thirty minutes or less, like the title of that bad pizza movie that's coming out soon.)
2. Scholastic Medals are heavy.
3. Don't get on the subway with your medal on. This is not out of concern that a stranger will steal the medal, no. The people on the subway are nice, to themselves, and all-in-all normal/ better looking than people from your hometown. You don't wear your medal on the subway because people will look at you like you're a complete idiot.
4. You probably are a complete idiot.
5. Whoopi Goldberg is super nice via video-greeting/ still gender ambiguous.
6. In the eyes of the best teenage artists of America, John Baldessari--possibly the most re-nouned, talented American painters of this century--giving an inspirational speech about his journey and accolades will most definitely be upstaged by Tony Hawk skating through Carnegie Hall and then giving a cookie cutter speech about "not selling out."
7. Your dad might be a little racist when he refers to an Indian cab driver as "Amigo."
8. Writing is so freaking important, still.
9. Even in New York City, your poetry teacher will manage to find you and make you feel like a terrible person and loose her luggage at the same time.
10. At an award show, never sit next to a girl who is wearing the same exact dress as you, especially if she is tall, mixed, and gorgeous. Remember, you are short, stocky, pale, and just changed in the bathroom of some place called "Joe's Rolls."
11. The people at The New Yorker Magazine do not like teenagers. Rightfully so. (note: Don't ever wear sandals/ ask to use the bathroom in a publishing house. Ever.)
12. The Governor's School is my home.


For right now, I'll take the second one. I'm not quite ready for the city yet.