I blame the spider.

I recently conquered a spider.

It was a major victory, at least in my mind. There I was, bleary-eyed at 7:30 in the morning, pissed that I had to wake up for load-in (I know, I'm an ideal film student. I actually ATTENDED load-in that time!)

My alarm clock goes off. I sit up. I can't see anything because I am practically legally blind without my glasses or contacts. I grope for my glasses. I shove them on my face. I start to drag myself out of bed when...

SPIDER.

BIG, BLACK SPIDER.

ON THE WALL.

RIGHT NEXT TO MY HEAD.

I speed out of bed like a fucking speedy speedster and press myself against the far wall, breathing heavily. I eye the spider like it's some sort of alien parasite that's about to latch itself to my face (and now I have that image in my head and it won't go away and I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight, am I?) It completely disregards me and scuttles along my wall.

Okay, I think. Caitlin. You are a humanitarian. You're from fucking Takoma Park, Maryland, for god's sake. You do not need to kill this spider. Perhaps you and the spider could co-exist?

The spider makes a sudden move. I jump about a foot. It is obvious that there will be no co-existing here. Still, I figure that I don't have to kill the spider! I considered trying to reason with it, but then I remembered that it was a spider and that weird thought was probably just 7:30 in the morning talking. I reconsidered.

All I have to do is get the spider out of my room! I realized in a brilliant stroke of genius. That's all! So what do I need? Some sort of cup? And paper? Book? Something?

I grab a piece of printer paper and the cap from my laundry detergent and set about chasing the spider around my room on my hands and knees. Please keep in mind that, at this time, I am still wearing my pajamas. Now, unlike girls in all movies and TV shows ever, I do not wear sexy pajamas. I do not own sexy pajamas. The pajamas that I am wearing during all of this consist of a baggy white t-shirt with a big picture of the cartoon character Tintin on it (which I've had since I was eight or nine, when I had a big crush on Tintin), and a pair of vast, tomato-red pajama bottoms. I am also sporting incredible birds-nest-hair, which I always have when I wake up (seriously, it achieves a life of its own. I have very little control over my hair.), and my glasses are askew.

I am super-attractive.

In my travails, I finally realize that the paper isn't stiff enough--it wasn't working. Whenever the spider scuttles onto it, the paper bends, the spider scurries off again, and I leap backwards a foot, sort of frantically brushing at myself and whimpering quietly. I've also kind of accidentally maimed it with the detergent cup. Oopsie.

So, humanitarian that I am, I decide to put it out of it's misery the way that any normal person would: with a shoe. Unfortunately, I am too much of a chicken to get all up-close-and-personal with my spider-murder, so I stand a the other side of the room and throw my sneaker at the spider. I'm not sure if it actually worked and killed it, or if the spider just passed out from its previous wounds, because it stopped moving.

I'll...clean that up later, I think. I then get dressed and go to Louis.

But. BUT. When I got back a couple of hours later, the SPIDER WAS GONE. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT WENT. I hope it crawled off and died somewhere, but WHERE WOULD IT GO? My room isn't that large. I can't find it! I just know that I am either going to be killed in my sleep by a pain-enraged arachnid, or by its vengeful family.

This isn't going to end well.

A picture's worth a personality

I like today. Today is a good day. Today is a FREE day, which is a total novelty. I haven't had a free day in weeks! And the best thing about today is that it's rainy and gross outside, so I am completely justified in staying inside and watching television and writing! Plus, I already forced myself to go to the gym this morning. NO OBLIGATIONS.

I just put Rachel's Tri-Om posters on my walls, which essentially means that I'm almost out of wall space for posters! This is incredibly exciting. I, like many college students, subscribe to the belief that posters = personality. The more posters, the more personality. I have a lot of posters. I am so fucking interesting.

Of course, when I actually consider the posters, I realize that they make me seem like a film snob and a geek. But I don't care! Because I have posters! And personality! But I can't escape that forever. I'm going to go through my posters now and figure out what they really say about me. I will spare no feelings. I will take no prisoners. This will be ruthless, bloody, and probably not very serious.

1.) Arrested Development: This is where that "Oh, did you know I'm in college?" undercurrent starts. I've only met one college student who DIDN'T like Arrested Development, and we shun her in public.
2.) Star Wars: A New Hope: I don't care what you say, that movie is fucking awesome.
3.) Ministry of Silly Walks/Johnny Depp: "I was raised on British TV, thanks, Dad" and "I'm a straight girl".
4.) Blues Brothers: This is where the shame comes in. I haven't actually seen this movie. The poster was Charlotte's and she offered it to me for free and...oh, God, I'm so sorry!
5.) TV poster: This is basically just a piece of white posterboard on which are taped a bunch of different pictures from TV shows and movies that I've liked. It's poorly made and juvenile and I LOVE IT. I will protect it with my life.
6.) Poster about immigration from El Salvador: "Did you know that I'm socially conscious? You should be friends with me!"
7.) GAP ad with the guys from SNL: I am a consumer. I watch television.
8.) Pictures of friends: "I AM NOT A HERMIT I DO TOO KNOW PEOPLE."
9.) postcards of Ghostbusters, the Rat Pack and The Godfather: "Damn straight I'm a film student. Allow me to take this opportunity to annoy the shit out of you." This is only helped by the fact that the Godfather postcard is in fucking ITALIAN.
10.) Picture of Neil Patrick Harris from a magazine article: "I harbor unrealistic hopes about men. I'm also possibly delusional."
11.) How I Met Your Mother and In Bruges: Like Star Wars, I have nothing to apologize for here. SUCK IT, WORLD.
12.) Humphrey Bogart: The best story about this poster is that my mother wouldn't let me put it up when I first moved in freshman year until Anna's mother left because it has the words "The whole world is about three drinks behind" on it, and she didn't want the Cosnahans thinking I was an alkie.
13.) Greatest Movie Quotes: This might be the most inexcusable one. I don't actually agree with a lot of the quotes they've got on this poster, but MOVIES!

But as much as it may seem like I'm poking fun at myself (because I AM), I'm really happy with all the posters. For one thing, the walls at Willard are stark white, and without anything to cover them, I feel like I'm in prison. For another, I think that these posters will provide good conversation pieces for when Robert Downey Jr. comes to visit me.

Yeah...maybe just a little delusional.

Cry me a fucking river

It's been established that I am secretly a romantic. I love a good chick-flick as much as the next stereotypical girl. I sigh at "Love Actually," I giggle at "While You Were Sleeping," I love me some Austen and I squeal like a tiny baby when I watch "When Harry Met Sally". (For some reason I have a hard time standing Tom Hanks, but that's a rant for another time.)

So I love a good romance. But more than that, I love a good heartbreak. It can be hard to watch and hard to accept, but ultimately, when heartbreak is done well, it's SO GOOD. So I've decided to compile a list of the top five (in my limited experience) heartbreaking scenes from TV shows.

Things to know in advance:
a.) DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED ON ANY OF THESE SHOWS. It will be spoiler-town very, very soon. I don't want to take you to spoiler-town if you do not want to go.
b.) The BBC is obviously very okay with killing, not only it's characters, but little pieces of my soul as well. DAMN YOU, BBC. I HAVE SHED SO MANY TEARS OVER YOU.
c.) I am a nerd. This is going to read loud and clear when you look at the shows I have chosen. Feel free to mock me about it at your nearest convenience. I am a HAPPY nerd, and I enjoy what I watch, so boo-yah.

So, with that said, let the sob-fest begin!

5.) LOST "The Constant": Desmond and Penny's phone call

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qO2g1wjOjDg

I still feel like a "Lost" newbie, which is slightly odd because I've watched four seasons of it. But it was four seasons in the span of about a month--God, I need to find something better to do with my life--so maybe it doesn't count as much? Oh, well.

But "Lost" is basically made of heartbreak. It seems to me that, if you are a character on the show, the surest way to die is to tell another person that you love them. This has happened, like, a BILLION times on the show. So it's kind of impressive that the scene that broke my heart the most didn't feature anyone drowning, or getting shot or blown up or knifed or crushed or eaten by a monster made of smoke. It was just a man and a woman making contact for the first time in over three years, connecting, confessing their love, happiness, touchstones, SIGH.

Yeah, yeah, I'm such a softie. Fucking deal with it, because now we're moving on to...

4.) DOCTOR WHO "Doomsday": Rose and the Doctor say goodbye

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvkjthzlyV8v

Aaand here's where the nerdiness makes its first appearance.

Okay, so the deal with this is that Rose is going to get locked in another dimension...FOREVER. Away from the Doctor, her life of adventure, her sense of meaning, and the awesomeness that is the TARDIS. And man, does that suck.

On a somewhat-related note, I like to measure heartbreak on the "Willa Scale," which is pretty much the amount my sister cries when watching the scene. 1 is nothing...like, a magazine article about Tiger Woods...but 10 would be, like, "Up" (and I'm not going to lie--I sobbed like a tiny, tiny baby at that movie).

This scene gets a solid 8 because the heartbreak occurs on multiple levels. Not only are Rose and the Doctor separated (and they're AWESOME together), but Rose is going back to work in a fucking SHOP. After spending months TOURING ALL OF TIME AND SPACE.

WHAT THE FUCK. RUSSELL T. DAVIES, YOU FUCKING SUCK.

3.) BONES "The Parts in the Sum of the Whole": "I'm the gambler"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kh3Y3Thdr-4

There have been many moments in my long career of watching television (almost five years now! I'm ancient) when I've just sort of had to gape at what I was watching. The thing is, that was usually because the showrunners were unexpectedly killing someone! It's very, very rare that a show takes something in a daring direction that has nothing to do with the death of a beloved character (RIP, Charlie Pace, Ianto Jones, Zach Addy--I know he's not dead, but FUCK, man.)

"Bones" did. This last episode was absolutely mind-bending. To have Booth finally confess his feelings--and it's about time, man!--and for Brennan to reject him...oof. I mean, it's the way that it has to be--"Bones" is trying to do everything that it can to avoid the "Moonlighting" and "X-Files" curse (if the will-they-won't-they characters finally "will", the show is essentially kaput). I just didn't expect them to accomplish it so WELL. They put the question out in the open. The jig is up. There's no dancing around it anymore. It opened up a lot of doors in a, yes, heartbreaking way. I mean, just LOOK at that scene! He's crying. She's crying. I'm crying. It's just so...good!

4.) ROBIN HOOD "We Are Robin Hood": Maid Marian fucking dies.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scKav5wXB0s

I mean, really, the title of this entry says it all. In this BBC (goddammit, BBC) adaption of the Robin Hood myth, they fucking KILL Maid Marian. Admittedly she dies in a fairly kickass way--sword through the stomach while protecting the King of England from the dastardly Sheriff of Nottingham and Guy of Gisborne (that's how they do in Sherwood Forest)--but STILL. Damn, son. They fucking KILLED Maid Marian.

This scene registered about a 9 on the Willa Scale--she watched it while I was out of the house one day. When I came back, she refused to come downstairs until I'd watched the episode so that we could be in shock together.

I mean, COME ON. He MARRIES her as she's lying there with her guts spilling out (looking totally gorgeous because, hey, it's still television). And then she removes a sword from her own stomach so that she can bleed out in peace.

BBC, YOU ROLL HARDCORE.

5.) TORCHWOOD "Exit Wounds": Tosh and Owen die

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1X6hvqIjLrE&feature=related

Oh, hey, is that more people sacrificing themselves for the good of the world and having heartbreaking death scenes? Yes. Yes it is. Only this time, Russell T. "Balls of Steel" Davies gives us TWO deaths for the price of one.

I love this scene. I love that Toshiko and Owen together even when they're apart, and how they acknowledge things that they never had a chance to do and how they're just so brave and SIGH. Excuse me, I think I've got a little something in my eye.

I know I've sort of railed against the BBC for killing people off with the subtlety and intent of a homicidal maniac in a shopping mall, especially with this show (Toshiko and Owen made up almost HALF the main cast. In the next season they would kill off Ianto, bringing the show down to two of its original five members), but in all seriousness, this is good shit, guys. A tip of the cap to you, my friends at the BBC. It can be hard to kill off characters in a way to make people care and to make them feel as though they're not being cheaply yanked around, and you did pretty well here.

Unfortunately, this scene did not score particularly highly on the Willa Scale, but that's only because she doesn't watch this gem of a show. It was off the charts on the Caitlin Scale, however. Tears forever.

Extensions on Life?

Tonight at dinner, Charlotte mentioned that a friend of ours made a plan to be more spontaneous this quarter. We all had a good laugh about Northwestern students and our over-reliance on the plan, on always needing to know what comes next and when the deadline is and what we're working towards. It was funny 'cuz it hit uncomfortably close to home.

Here at Northwestern, the syllabus is king. It's the golden map of the next ten weeks. As sad as it sounds, one of my favorite moments of the quarter is taking all four syllibi from all four of my classes and copying the assignments into my planner (oh yes...my beautiful, beautiful planner). It's a favorite moment because it gives me a glimpse into my future. I get to compare workloads to film sets to Phonathon to trips home. I get to see what days I will be freaking out and staying up late. I get to see what days I will be wasting on television (hello, "Lost"...)

I love being able to see into the future.

But that's the problem, isn't it? I'm NINETEEN. At times, especially when I remember that I will be twenty years old in a little less than two months, that feels really old, but ultimately, I am still a baby. This is the time I should be taking things a little more easy, trying new things, meeting new people, slow down, smell the flowers.

But in my head--my Northwestern-centric head--those flowers are poppies. And we all know what poppies do.

I worry that if I stop to smell the flowers, I won't ever stop smelling the flowers. I'll be That Guy, working at a Wal-Mart from here until I die in my trailer, surrounded by my cats. And I fucking hate cats.

My mom read my the riot act the other day because of this. I think that she's worried that I'm becoming her, and she doesn't want that to happen (I don't know why not. She got me out of it, and I'm pretty awesome.) This all comes down to the question of study abroad. I'd like to intern in Los Angeles instead, something that contributes to me having a job after I graduate. She wants me to pump the brakes, kid, to go to another country and sample some culture, or haggis, or some shit.

Part of me really agrees with her. I would love to go to another country. But I would also like to have a job after I graduate. I don't want to bum around LA for months and months before being stuck in a PA position for some goliath production company.

I'm a Northwestern student. I need a syllabus. I have a syllabus, and it says "Age 23: become successful." I know it's not realistic, and I know that I'm destined for horrific failure, but that's what the syllabus says, and I don't think that life is too good about handing out extensions.