I Don't Believe in Topic Transitions

I justify my week-long virtual absence with this excerpt from my screenwriting book: All writers hate to write. To be sure, writers love having written. But every last one of us hates to write. Writing, like banging your head against the wall, feels terrific mainly when you stop. I don't necessarily consider myself any more of a writer than the next person, but I do share the sentiment. But let's continue our experience together and make it as pleasurable as possible.

But first, allow me a "whoa is me" moment—this pathetic economy has finally trickled down all the way to my dinky college job writing profiles on small businesses for a tourism website. I wasn't that upset when my boss e-mailed me last week to say there was nothing for me to do in the office and she understood if I had to look for work elsewhere. I was mostly bummed about losing my $100/wk cushion that supported my dining out/ weekend drinking/ unnecessary purchases habit. I haven't decided if I should use my new free time to find another job, or if I should just spend the next three months before graduation like a bummy college kid. I prefer the latter, but we shall see. 

Despite my already minimal income down the drain, here are the new kicks I can't afford but still long for. They're kind of crazy, and I'm not sure if I'd feel like an ass actually wearing them. But in theory, they're tight.

Dammit Katie, I know. 

I have a confession to make: I saw my landlord's butt crack yesterday, and I did not immediately look away. He was kneeling down in our bathroom to fix our toilet that appears to have been leaking fecal water in the bathroom below (sorry, ladies), and I happened to glance at the vertical line of his behind looking back at me. He was wearing maroon suspenders—much like the ones I own—that were unsuccessfully keeping his shirt from meeting his jeans. So I took a look at where these two elastic bands kindly framed his ass cleavage. Sue me. 

Now on to Steven Spielberg. I'm taking a class called American Cinema Since 1970, and we're discussing his work right now so he's on my mind. I'll admit that I usually scoff at his name a little because he is truly the most mainstream,  commercial, high concept director of American history. Therefore, I am not particularly drawn to his movies. However, we watched "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" in lab last week, and I have to say he's a damn good filmmaker. I sat in the second row looking up in awe, probably much like the original audiences 30 years ago did. What makes Spielberg so great is his effortless ability to revert audiences to age 8 again. He makes movies about dinosaurs, aliens, and Peter Pan. Whether we like it or not, we can't resist the innocent delight of still being a kid. I don't think I'd want to make a film like his myself, but it's impossible not to respect him. 

While I'm on the topic of entertainment, let me tell you about my latest mediated crush. Charlie Day is just too funny and little and cute. And that voice, that high pitched, schoolgirl voice. 

Dump that stupid waitress you're actually 

married to in real life and hang out with me, yeah? 

Alright, this red wine is finally starting to get to me so I think I'm gonna hit the hay. I realize I write like a skitzo so thanks for putting up with me. Until then, eat your vegetables. 

-J.