John Lennon said (or sang, really), "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." For me, back in October, it was the other way around. I was caught up in life, celebrating my 23rd birthday with some friends from school at the second annual "It's Joanna's B-Day and she loves Halloween so she demands that someone with an apartment in the city throw her a party and that you all wear costumes to get in the damn holiday spirit and supply her with some Captain Morgan and don't you dare forget the Diet Coke, bitches" party. Yes, I'm quite the tyrant when I'm trying to organize a good time. It was at this birthday bash that, somehow, through my drunken haze, I suddenly had a very clear moment and realized that this may very well be the last time I engage in any form on celebration with my college friends before graduation. I began to panic and knew that I had to do something. Step up and plan one last shebang for all of us to do together. Something big. Something epic. AND FAST. Then I got over it and passed out on my pal Ned's couch.
Being a screenwriting major at UArts means you are stuck with the same 15-20 people (depending on how many drop out / are "encouraged to leave" by faculty) ALL THE FUCKING TIME for the next four years. We attend each core class together. We get teamed up in workshops. We know each others' genres, who our competition is, who thinks we have no talent. And if we look hard enough in those scripts, we know everyone's personal problems. Basically, we get fucking intimate. When you're required to pick apart each others' work, telling everyone to their faces how bad their writing is, you form a special kind of bond. The kind of bond that leads to years of counseling and mild alcoholism. But what separates us from most small college majors is that we are so dedicated to our craft (ha!) that we don't really have the time to have fun with each other. Or maybe we do have the time, we just choose to spend it with other people. You know, people we don't associate with all of that aforementioned work.
Despite this, I decided to apply the obsessive-compulsive vacation-planning gene that my mom passed down to me and round up the troops for a week of drunken debauchery during Spring Break. Of course, not everyone agreed, but I was happy to know that I wasn't the only one longing for the last gasp, the last grope, before we rode off into the sunset and faced the "real world" as they say. That sentence was purposely cliche-ridden, but come on - this post is about my Spring Break. Cliches are needed.
Anyway, I could explain in text what went down during that week on the border of the Delaware/Maryland beaches (because who wants to deal with all of that drug nonsense in Mexico and who can afford to go to Disney World or anywhere warm for that matter). However, I'm going to take this blog to the next level and post some personal photos to tell the story for me. Photos are my favorite part of other people's blogs, so why not? I don't flatter myself; I don't really think anyone is going to jerk off to my image (well, not in these pics anyway). And if you do, just don't tell me. I like the mystery of not knowing who's jerking off to me.
Standing L-R: Jen, John, Ned, Lauren, AJ
Kneeling L-R: Me, Brandy
Missing due to the fact that one of the two cars we had broke down 2 days into the trip and there was no way we could all fit into one car so at least one person was excluded from every outing which fucking sucked and led to a lot of unnecessary drama: Emily
That's a sexy bunch, right? Screenwriters are notoriously good-looking. And just to tell you, this is about halfway into the trip, most of us are hungover (hence me not wearing makeup), and this is just after an ultra-competitive round of indoor mini golf.
Props to me for booking this gorgeous, 6-bedroom house, complete with fireplace, elevator, and hot tub. All of which we used inappropriately.
Brandy, Me, and Emily. I am my favorite kind of drunk in this picture. The drunk where you aren't stumbling, incoherent, or obnoxious. The drunk where you love everyone and believe that everyone loves you. And the drunk where you begin to resemble an Asian man.
Artsy-fartsy. We lucked out and got a few 70º days. Then it snowed. And snow on the beach is less cool than you'd imagine. And also less depressing. Overall, very underwhelming.
Miss July, aka AJ, aka the prettiest mermaid you ever did see. He's single, ladies!
Ebony and Ivory. No, Iesha isn't a UArts Screenwriter, she's John's BFF who came to visit for 2 nights. She has a Mohawk and a nice rack. Hence, I fucking love her. Profane emphasis is necessary for people as awesome as she.
Ned has an inaccurate perception of John. He once told me, "John is so cool and he doesn't even have to try," and then expressed how jealous he was of John's cool ways. John is from Jersey and loves Queen and zombies - he ain't cool. Anyway, when John fist-bumped Ned, Ned shrieked in delight, "This is the proudest moment of my life!" You can't see his face, but I imagine it's an "O" face.
Our family portrait. I can't figure out if AJ is trying to resemble a bratty child who just hasn't mastered smiling for photos yet or if he's going for more of a, "Mommy smoked some funny things when I was growing in her belly" look. Neither, I think. That's just how AJ looks. Again, he's single...
This would make anyone uncomfortable, but Lauren especially.
If I hadn't met John at UArts, I most likely would have transferred and abandoned the whole artsy thing. I'm not going to get all mushy here (I'll leave that for my final "Beat by Beat" interview, which, if you haven't seen, click the link in the previous post), but he's one of my all-time favorite people. Why? Well, one reason is that we both own this shirt. Though my laundry detergent is clearly superior.
This was our "last supper" - our final night out for good food and good conversation. We got all dolled up and talked about our top 10, desert-island movies, 'cause that's how screenwriters do. We're all attempting to look sexy in this pic. Obviously, sexy has many faces.
Okay, I'm gonna be honest - I like most of the screenwriting gals, but I love the boys more. Well, these three at least. And I'm not one of those chicks who claims that she just gets along better with men. We call those girls sluts. J/K, I actually tend to like the girls who get along better with men. But I'm all about the individual - gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, whatever. If you're cool, you're cool. I just happen to prefer these 3 to everyone else at my school.
My favorite moments on this trip and over the past four years at UArts were with these guys. I've known AJ since high school, and our harassment of each other never ceases to make me laugh. Ned is nice to me when no one else is, and I can always count on him to dish about vapid things like reality TV (ANTM and Rock of Love, especially). And John is pretty much the male version of me. Over the remaining years of my life, whenever I get nostalgic about college, they're the ones I'll think of.
Damn, I said I wouldn't get mushy. Anyway, Spring Break has come and gone. I laughed, I cried, I cultivated a shitload of inside jokes that I'll probably forget in a month but right now are the funniest things swirling around in my head. I formed closer bonds with people I once thought I'd never even speak to. And I finally got the chance to see what college life is all about. 2 months before graduation. Oh well, better late than never.