Caroline's Blog to Herself

Got an ASM offer for another theater company!  Sweet.  They’re a lot like Molotov in terms of edgy contemporary shows.  Just no blood (pout). I’m sure I’ll come back to Molotov, but right now I really need a break.  For obvious reasons that, if you’ve been reading this Tumblr, you are all too aware of already (cue angry emo music for last Friday’s post).

Times are good.  Going home on Friday.  Mom has apparently baked a bunch of Valentiney treats.  Good times will be had.

A cat is sitting on my hands, or I would write more.

Dear Caroline,

The Artist is going to win every award ever created by humans, and you are very okay with that.  Jean DuJardin could walk into a bank and rob it just by doing this.

He wouldn’t even rob it.  They would just throw the money at him.  

But being beautiful doesn’t win awards… all the time. (..Right?) It’s a phenomenal movie, and a surprising one.  It positively nails all the elements of classic silent films (mugging, cheesy score, animals-who-are-smarter-and-more-adorable-than-humans), but this is to be expected.  

Where the movie truly stuns is its moments of darkness.  A standout scene sounds completely unremarkable when described- a silent film actor has a nightmare about “talkies”- but is executed with almost Aronofsky-esque levels of tension and anxiety.  The sound of a glass on a table becomes a thing to be feared, a barking dog at a slightly tilted camera angle, the onset of a nervous breakdown, and a black feather hitting the ground, an atomic bomb.

After the novelty of watching a legitimate silent movie fades, The Artist goes exactly the way of Mad Men in introducing themes that are disturbingly relevant to modern day.   Evolving technology.  Collapsing economy.  The dark consequences of not being able to keep up with a newer, fresher model.  Even if you have an adorable dog following you all the time.  These themes, and the unbelievably imaginative way they are handled, are why The Artist deserves every single award it gets.

That, and Berenice Bejo is so freaking cute you could just squeeze her.

Your first freelance check came in the mail today.  This is real.  And SURREAL. 

This is happening.  Your ideas and your writing are paying your rent.

Yowza.

Drinks on you ahhhhh!

YOU’RE GOING TO HONEYBAKED HAM AND YOU’RE SO EXCITED

Hello you,

It’s funny when something you do for fun all of a sudden becomes something you do for your job.  By funny, you mean of course, sort of terrifying.  But this is the age of stupid trivial things (Youtube, Twitter, Facebook) becoming massively important, if only for 4 or 5 seconds.  There are over 5 billion of us and we apparently all have time to kill posting pictures of our vacation/baby/cat.

There’s a sort of beauty to it too.  Is it weird to say it like that?  Now instead of dying at a desk for 8 hours a day, you’re getting paid to write.  What you hoped would eventually happen after you graduated is happening.  It’s yours to fuck up, and yours to make work amazingly well for yourself.  You won’t have to look back on this and ask, “what if?” Now it’s a reality.  A goal is happening.

Next on the goal list is to marry this man.

Gosh.  Do you think he wakes up looking like that?

Hello you.  It’s been a while.  You don’t write letters to yourself as much anymore.  Have you *gasp* actually figured out how to organize your life in a way that doesn’t require you to make e-post its?

Nope.

You just got busy.  Life started happening SO FAST at the beginning of 2012, it was unreal.  This weekend you went up to New York City with Molotov Theatre for their debut of the (pardon the French) fucking awesome play, Fat Men In Skirts.  It was a whirlwind.  The show sold out.  Everyone’s minds were boggled that they were actually doing theater in New York City.  So amazing and so dramatic.

Now you’re back in DC.  And it’s raining.  Sigh.  But at least it’s not Monday.

Here’s a random picture of something that makes you happy.

Love love.

This weekend has been totally great.  It started with a Nationals game, continued with PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES AHH

And continued still with the weather being utterly beautiful (YAY for fall), and time spent bonding with the lovely new roommate.  Three cheers indeed.

You also stumbled upon a pin-up artist whose illustrations you went gaga for.  Dean Yeagle.  Think safe-but-basically-porny cartoons.  Yes it’s a guilty pleasure but you love the camp of it all.

Hope your Saturday is fantastic xox