Your regurarly scheduled blog (on Incest!)

I've always felt like I was different. Not in a super hero way. Or in a more-important-than-everyone-else way... But in a way that most people would see as "not ideal".

Over my life time I have struggled through many different things. Now I have an entire list of phobias. A list. You see? Not ideal.

No kid closes their eyes and wishes: I want to be afraid of outerspace when I get older.... If your kid is wishing for that... You should take them to a doctor. They probably need someone to talk to.

By "not ideal" I don't mean bad, I just mean, 99% of people would not jump at the oppertunity to trade me all of my phobias for their one phobia of heights. Or of death. Or of spiders. Or of losing a loved one.

To me, one phobia sounds like a walk in the park. I remember when my biggest fear was spiders. Those were the good days. Cake.

However, everyone goes through a point in their lives where everything gets complicated. We change, we realize... We wake up.

Last night I had the pleasure of seeing a senior thesis film titled: "Incest! The musical!" Needless to say, it is one of the best film-student films I have ever seen. It exceeded my already high expectations. The music was great, the acting was great, the cinematography was great, everything. And it was incredibly inspiring.

Sure. At first, it doesn't sound like it.

But after thinking about it non-stop since I saw it last night I have to say that it made me think a lot about myself.

No. I'm not in love with my brother.

But I do have "not ideal" qualities and I would definitly list "in love with my twin sister/brother" as a "not ideal" quality. Wouldn't you?

The thing about Incest! The Musical is that the characters, by the end, don't care what everyone thinks. They're in love and they'll be together, no matter what it takes.

But that's hard. It's hard not to care what other people think. Because no one wants to be shunned from society.

No child closes their eyes and wishes for... Well you know the drill.

But it's not us, not the people with "not ideal" qualities, that should be conforming for others. It should be the people that think they are free of "not ideal" qualities. No body is free of them. Therefore nobody should think they are strange.

But still it's hard.

I've started to talk about mine in a more conversational manner. Meaning that if someone wants me to do something and I don't want to because I'm freaked out. I'll tell them I don't want to do it.

Example: "Berlyn we're telling ghost storys in Jon and Austins room and it's totally dark in here"

"... Guys I'm tired and afraid of the dark... I don't think this is a good idea."

I'm not trying to say this is how you should go about it. I'm not trying to coach anyone on anything. But if I have learned anything from Incest! it's that being yourself is the most important thing. It doesn't matter what everyone thinks. You love your twin, so screw everyone else, you'll love your twin.

So... If I'm afraid of space, the dark, spiders, abandonment, messiness... Or if I think I have a million different diseases when I really just have allergies... Or if I feel like just giving up sometimes... That's because that's me. That's who I am. I have other qualities that are more likeable... Like I'm funny, talkative, friendly, artistic, a hard worker, smart, ambitious. But those are mixed about other qualities.

Which is why I like who I am. I'm not perfect. I'm me. No one can be me.

-Berlyn

P.S. I'm sorry if this was all over the place... They typically are. Just another quality of mine.

P.P.S. Follow Incest! The Musical on Facebook :) You can also buy their music on Itunes! Dooo it :) It's so good. And, you never know, it may be coming to a town near you :)

Faceplanting...

Yesterday I fell off my bike.

I was riding to an interview at Victoria's Secret, I was in riding through the university next to my apartment, I took a sharp turn around a corner, hit a curb and faceplanted into the grass.

Faceplanted.

There's a lot of things you think about when you fall. For example, some of the first things I thought about were:

Did anyone see me?

What if I end up on failblog?

And, Did I get a grass stain on my interview clothes?

You see, I saw the crash coming, I had almost enough time to plan out my landing (almost). So when I sat up I pretty much called myself a retard and checked to see if anyone had seen.

Yes, of course someone had seen.

But he wasn't thinking about all the things that I thought about. He was worried about things like catching me on tape or if I had stained my clothes. Nope. He asked if I was alright and then said:

"Well. At least you landed on grass."

How insightful of you random CSUN student.

How many times have you fell (metaphorically and physically) and thought "well, at least I fell on grass?"

I rode through that parking lot on my way back from the interview and I realized that I landed on one of the only grassy spots in that area. If I had turned earlier I would have beefed it on pavement, bark, or gravel. But, I fell in the grass.

So this got me to thinking. There are three ways you can react from falling (metaphorically and physically): 1, you pretend like it didn't happen and move on, 2, you think about all the things that could have happened, or 3, you think about how lucky you were to have fallen the way you did.

Why is it that most of us choose the first one every time?

Why do we have to wait for our parents, or friends, or doctors, or random CSUN students to tell us that we were lucky and that a million other things could have happened?

After the CSUN student walked by, I realized a slight throbbing in my right arm... Probably because when people fall our first reaction is to throw out our hands. So I got to thinking. What were the worst things that could happen?

I could have broken my arm...

I could have hit pavement and busted open my head (I wasn't wearing a helmet)...

I could have done this, I could have done that...

But. I fell on grass. And now, instead of being hurt badly, I'm just really sore.

So. I've been thinking. This incident is a lot like everyday life.

Think about all the hard things you have gone through in your life and landed on grass at the end. I've gone through many emotional trials in my life, but when I think back... I can honestly say I've landed on grass every time. Sure, at the time if feels like your scraping against pavement, but when it's all passed and you look back and think: I got through that... Or, I landed on grass.

What if we had that mentality evertime something went horribly ary in our lives?

We fight with a friend, we fight with a family member, school's hard, life's hard, can't get a date, fighting with a boyfriend, etc.

What if, through all that stress, we stopped and thought: I'm going to land on grass.

I know. This is a common tool for stress addicts like me. When you freak out and have a panic attack, you're supposed to tell yourself that it will be alright. That everything will be alright.

But I have a hypothesis.

Think back to the one time that you had a bad fall (physically) and ended up alright. Did you land on grass? Carpet? A matress? A bush?

Then. Whenever you are having a hard time in life you can think back to that moment, when everything was alright. When you landed on, whatever you landed on.

I think maybe, it will help get us on our feet a little quicker, because it was a real-life event where you walked away just fine, embarrassed, but fine. It's alot easier to look back at that then to tell yourself you will be "alright" but you have no example of what "alright" really is.

That's just what I think though.

I hope that one day, when I'm freaking out, I can tell myself: "Don't worry you'll land on the grass" and actually calm down. Think about the people that are there for me, waiting to help me up from my not-so-terrible fall, think about how they love me, and how I'm lucky. Not because a god allowed me to be so, but because I worked hard and found the right people to place in my life, and that those people organically love me and would not let me go.

Just a simple thought.

- Berlyn

P.S. Sorry it's short and a bit of a ramble. I was debating on wether or not I wanted to write one this week because I am tired, bent out of shape (literally, I hurt everywhere), and preoccupied. Axl's coming home for a short while and he's driving in tonight. So... I'd much rather be busying myself with getting the place looking nice for his arrival. Also, I've been writing for the past five days and I'm a little fed up. I just want to watch some televison and sleep frankly.

Next time I will have a much better topic and it will be longer...

Hello, character. Nice to meet you.

Hi. My name is Kimberly, and I'm addicted to character development.

Over the past several years I have come to realize just how attached to characters I get. This is the case in movies and books. I begin to identify with characters. I relate them to myself and to people I know. Sometimes characters don't even resemble anybody in my life, but I grow to care about characters after a while if I can watch them grow.

I am the perfectionist, detail-oriented, people-pleasing, stressed out Rory Gilmore.

I'm the cynical yet loving Tibby from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

I'm the fierce, determined, but slightly awkward at times Ginny Weasley (not in the movies, though, just the books).

I have intense admiration for Callie from Grey's Anatomy, with her fearless badass attitude and strong personality.

An old close friend of mine greatly resembles Tully from Firefly Lane (the book I'm currently reading) and I find myself desperately wishing to talk to her and help her.

Tears were not uncommon for me while reading Prozac Nation because I just wanted to make everything better for Elizabeth.

Dang it, I even felt a bond with Tod from The Fox and The Hound.

The list goes on and on, but I just can't seem to separate myself from characters in anything. Their pain is my pain; their triumph is mine as well. If I don't make any connection with at least one character in a story, then I consider it to be a poorly developed one.

I've tried to figure out the reason behind this (because I HAVE to analyze everything, you know), and the most logical explanation I've come up with is that it must be because of how much I care about people. This is both a great strength and weakness for me. I know my future career will greatly revolve around helping people; I wouldn't feel complete if that was not the case. However, I have to realize that my intensity when it comes to caring about people may make life more difficult for me. Countless times I have been told that social work would burn me out. Honestly, it probably would. That doesn't mean I shouldn't do it, though. I'm slightly steering my goal to Human Services now...

Anyway, there is a definite downside to my intoxication with character development. Sometimes I start to view real life as if it were a story. It is, really, at least in a way. However, it's a story where I can't write all the parts. I can't throw the book of life across the room if I get frustrated with how it's headed. Well, I could... but that's called a mental breakdown, and I'm not too fond of those. People I'm acquainted with tend to upset me if they don't learn from their mistakes and lessons that are practically being thrown at them. It makes me want to shout, "YOU'D BE HAVING A REALIZATION BY NOW IF YOU WERE IN A NOVEL. OPEN YOUR EYES!" See, that's okay if you yell it to a fictional character on a page or TV screen. Not so much when it's to a living, breathing person who can actually hear you.

When I'm writing a story or a poem or whatever else, then there is always the possibility for me to make my character listen to me. I'm aware of how ridiculous that sounds... Of course I can get through to a person if I'm the one who created them. The thing is, I often don't feel like I've created them. Every character in every story I read, write, or watch has something in common with somebody I've come across. So I care about them. Deeply. When it's something I'm witnessing I want to help. When it's something I'm writing, then I suddenly CAN help. Oh, how I wish I could write things in to real life.

Maybe some people can do that, with just their spoken words. Me, I can't articulate most of my thoughts through speech. I just can't. My intentions can be of the highest quality and my determination to help can be solid, but when I speak I waiver. I end my most concrete thoughts with "I don't know," and my inability to hold eye contact makes my arguments and sentiments seem weaker. When I write, my words become fortified.

Almost all of the stories I've written have only been read by me. In my mind, the characters I've created are as real as flesh. They're just as real as you and I are. My dialogue can actually get through to the characters I create. The thing is, "my characters" are often heavily based upon people I know or have known in the past. Words I wish I had said can become real and have the effect I wish they had the opportunity to have. This is often why I talk aloud to the television, as well. I want to FIX EVERYTHING. I want to get to know everyone so I can be there for them. Hugging the women in the stories I read is not a foreign thought to me. And you know what, that's just powerful creation from the authors.

To every author, poet, songwriter, screenwriter, etcetera out in the world who has made me feel this way, you have done your job. You've done it well. But when I'm done reading a story, listening to a song, or watching a movie/television show, I'm not done with your characters. They become a piece of me. So maybe that's why I have such a huge heart for everyone. When I talk to people, I'm reminded of the characters in the book. And unlike "real" people, the people in books share their thoughts with me. I KNOW what they wish people would say or do. I want to be able to know that with the actual people in my life as well. I want to watch them grow in a positive way and I want to know I've done everything in my power to make them happy. It physically hurts me when I can't do this, both in real life and in my literary-based imagination.

I know that may make me insanely weird, but I refuse to be embarrassed by it. My name is Kimberly, and I'm addicted to character development in every shape and form.

-Kim

Cakes....

I'm going to start this blog off with a short story from my past:

I don't know if many of you know this but in high school I didn't have many boyfriends. In my entire life I have had two. I really wasn't interested in the first... I was young and just wanted to say I had a boyfriend.... The second, I moved in with and am still dating.

However. In between these two boyfriends my friends and I would make "singlism" cakes.

Yes.

It was a way to make us feel better about being single.

Yes.

It was a way to feel loved when we felt we weren't.

And yes.

It worked 99.9% of the time.

Because while we baked these cakes we were able to re-discover the pure love we had for eachother. The pure admiration, adoration, and fondness we had for eachother. We would sit and eat that cake while we watched movies and felt sorry for ourselves and sometimes cried.... But I don't have a single sad memory of these times. The times we made the cakes. I only remember laughter.

We don't make those cakes anymore because well. They were almost always baked at my house and I now have a boyfriend. So... The cakes have become a little obsolete. However, we still manage to bake everyonce in a while. Most of the time we make brownies and cakes for parties cause it's easier then buying a present (who doesn't like cake? AND you always have a funny story to tell with it. ALWAYS)....

SO... Back to the present.

Today is a party for a good friend of mine. She is turning eighteen years old and I'm super excited because (being as I now live in California) I don't get to go to many of my friends birthday parties.

So. Before the party I had planned to take my wife (.... Anna.... She is this adorable little girl who was a freshman when I was a senior.... I asked her to marry me and now we are "married"... She's in my phone as Wifey... This is legit stuff here) on a Seattle outing because I promised her I would. It's a tradition.

Hold on...

Sorry I had to rifle through my party bag from an eight-year-old's birthday party... For gum. I was still chewing on the piece from my Rain-Blow Pop (which, btw, is not as good as BLOW POPS... Just sayin) silly me...

Anyways. We made this plan to pick up my friend Kate from Seattle Pacific Lutheran University (Spu) and go to the erotic bakery (Only in Seattle) to buy an erotic cake for our friends party.

You see... We were joking about in front of the birthday girl and she got really excited so we decided to get her the cake. She told her mom. Her mom got all pumped and said she wasn't going to get cake because we were bringing a cake but... The cake we got was tiny (I mean one of the biggest cakes they had there.. But still small...)... So we decided to make another cake at a later date.

So..... Let me start at the Erotic bakery...

After screaming and yelling for about fifteen straight minutes as I drove around looking for this place (which we had found by accident the first time) and Kate yelled at the GPS (which wouldn't work) and Anna cried in the back (Just a normal car ride with Berlyn)........ We finally found the bakery. We parked and walked towards it. All wondering if we would get carded and Baby Anna would have to wait outside...

But they really could have cared less... They would let ten-year-old boys buy boob and vagina cakes.... But I would too... I would also give them a full BAG OF CONDOMS! * So... No judgement.

Anyways. We stood looking at the rotating cakes debating on how much we wanted to spend on this cake. We ended up getting the biggest cake with the penis of our choosing (I think we were suppose to get a black one... But we got a tan one instead.....) and told the man excitedly to retrieve it.

He responded:

Those are big enough to write on... I could write something like "happy birthday, now blow".

He listed a few more but we decided we liked:

"You can have your cake and eat him too"

So that is written on the cake.

As we payed.... The man returned and asked:

"Now the real question is.... Would you like Cum?"

You can guess how we responded.

So. We had cake one. And it now sits comfortably in one of the many fridges at my house (I sound like a hillbilly...). I wrapped it up all nice and stuff.

Anyways.

Last night I had Kate and my other friend Katie over. Now bear in mind. We HAD to make this cake. The other one was not big enough to feed a party of 30 people.

Kate will deny this but... I WANTED TO MAKE THE RECTANGLE CAKE PER USUAL.... She wanted hearts.

So.

I started cooking. Katie made the frosting (by hand, pretty cool). Kate sat with my injured dog.

By the end of the night. This cake looked terrible. It was three layers tall of broken hearts and slowling falling apart. AND.... We didn't have enough frosting....

So.... As we started pouring the frosting on the cake we began panicking. It was falling apart even more.

I was hyperventalating. Katie had given up entirly. And Kate was trying to save the cake.

This cake looked god-awful by the time we put it in the fridge. God awful. But we decided to give it to them anyways... I mean... It tastes good.

So.

Today... I got up early. Went to my sister's horseback riding (she's so talented :) I love her so) and froze to death while wanting to punch my mom in the face for being on the phone with my aunt THE WHOLE LESSON... Urg pet peeve.

Then I went to a birthday party at a gymnastics place... My littler sister was invited but the horse-back-riding one joined in on the fun too. This was a group of eight-year-olds and younger.

I felt incredibly out of place and cold...

But... Then I was offered pizza. And met a ten year old who could make balloon animals! (Where was he when I was ten? Seriously).

I was offered a cupcake but I resisted as I sucked on my blow-pop and rocked in my chair.

Yes.

Children stared at me.

Yes.

I was distracting.

And yes.

I did get a goody bag :)

Then we came home and I showed my mom the cake I made last night.

I wrote on it in icing.

"Cake? Happy B-Day. Love U"

True poetry. I am a writer you know...

OH! And I poured sprinkles on it.

It still looks like shit. But... Hey. It will definitly shock, horrify, and send people into fits of laughter.

But isn't that the goal of most of my work? Lets review.

Halloween film: BOOBS, Boobs, and naked blonde girls.

Visual Design project: Creepy Julie's stealing babies.

48-hour film: A murderer and another murderer who is also a necropheliac compete over an alleyway and a girl and are eventually joined by family-man/killer Sam.

Yes. I think this is a re-occuring theme for me.

Anyways. I'm going to go get read for this party ordeal... I need to write a card and make the cakes look presentable and then drive off in my Honda with a trunk-full of tires.

.... That's a story for another blog...

-Berlyn

P.S. I think I should do a vlog of this entire blog in a british accent... Yes?

P.P.S. Happy Birthday Elisa. This one's for you :)

* The bag of condoms joke has to do with the fact that when I went to the clinic the other day... The lady asked me if I wanted a few condoms. Normally I would have responded: Naw, I'm good thanks. But this time I responded: Oh! Yes! Thank you! Nearly forgot.

I figured she'd pull out a jar and let me pick three or four... You know like lollies.

Wrong. She filled this paper bag to the brim with condoms.... And I'm sitting there like: What the hell am I supposed to do with all of these condoms? So... Now I have a gigantor bag of condoms and no idea what to do with all of them (I know. Half of you are like: Have sex. DUR. Well smarty pants I can have sex if my boyfriend lives in another state.... Besides who uses that many condoms that quickly?).... So I'm trying to make joke about them. I'm failing. But I think I have a new script idea.

To A Lovely Month! (edited)

Two weeks ago I wrote about the 48-hour film festival before the 48-hours were actually over... Before all the conflict and triumphs were through.... And for this. I apologize. I have robbed you all of the best parts of this 48-hour competition. BUT do not fear. I will spill my guts on everything right here and right now. Besides. It should be an entertaining experience.

So. Let me start with this:

(disclaimer 1)

Some names have been changed to protect my ass a LITTLE more. Though I'm sure it won't help.

(disclaimer 2)

I had fun doing the 48-hour film festival. I did. And I wouldn't change the experience in anyway. And I look forward to doing it again next year. BUT, I will never, ever, work with the group I worked with this year again. But. I did have fun.

(disclaimer 3)

I did not write this to ruin the lives of the mentioned people. I can't do that. I don't have that power. I just wanted to tell my side. They are great students and work hard but I felt I was wronged by them as a friend. So this is my side.

Okay. So lets all go back to the weekend of March 4th-6th.

So. When I wrote you all on that week I was extremly tired. Couldn't see properly and we had just finished filming. Julie, the editor, was sitting on my bed uploading all the clips.

Everything had seemed to go well. We all had fun on set and we got to leave set half an hour earlier than we had planned! Sounds like a dream come true, right?

But....

The blanket that was covering up all of our groups ugliest features was soon about to fall off. It just needed one strong breeze.

Enter (we'll call him) D.P.

D.P. was supposed to be the "other" editor, (I'm not going to go too deep into the details of this because this is not MY place. This was between D.P. and Julie... Again, not my place. But I need to mention it for the purpose of the story) so Julie edits half one, he edits half two. Which, in my opinion, is a stupid idea. Editing is like writing. It's an art. You can't write one half of a story and then hand it off to another writer (unless it's one of those books that switches from character to character).... Imagine if three and a half of the harry potter books were written by J.K. Rowling and the rest was written by Stephanie Meyer. Sounds awful right? This also goes for art as well. Imagine if a piece of art was done half way and then handed off to another painter? Picasso to Da Vinci.... Great artists but it wouldn't be a terrific piece of art... It would be weird.

So. When I heard that this was what was going down I was like: You sure? .... But I moved on. We brought all the footage up to my room started uploading it (transfering it might be a better word) Russell left four or five minutes into this. Leaving Julie to name every clip. Organize every clip. and do everything else it is editors do before they actually start putting stuff together (it's a process I am not a huge part of as I am not an editor).

He was going to let her do all the work and then just edit his half and act like it was all hunky dory. On set he didn't even know the script so now he planned on editing without really knowing the script?

But. Julie stayed up all night and edited almost the whole video.

When she told D.P. the next morning he was pissed but he didn't bitch us out or anything. Nope. He waited till ONE AM SUNDAY (the day we were to turn in the project) to come up to MY room and bitch Julie out.

Yeah.

Poor Julie, on almost 38-hours of no sleep had to go through this. After all of her hard work. So. I had Julie talk to him. Then he came up to my room with us and made a few notes on the video.

So again. Not my place. I'm done on that subject.

Now lets got to the next week. This week is all me so I'm going to speak my mind. I'll be polite because the two people most involved are just WAITING for me to say something to use against me.

So. The week of March 7th-13th:

A close friend of mine told me that apparently D.P. and (lets call her) Gaffer had been saying stuff behind my back the ENTIRE time on set. Yeah. Super mature guys.

We can never be 100% about shit-talk but this is apparently what went down.

So. Gaffer was the gaffer, they tape, sometimes help set up lights and all kinds of stuff. So. Often times I would ask Gaffer to tape down certain things (cause it's, you know, her job) and apparently when I turned around she would act (in front of the actors) as though I just asked her to juggle three light stands and a car. Her and D.P. apparently said that I was "snapping" at Gaffer. None of the actors or other workers thought I was.

Also. D.P. was the Director of Photography... But somewhere along the line he became a "co" director I guess... I respected this. I asked him if we needed anything else and if he had any requests. All kinds of things. I tried to work with him as best as I could because, at the time, I respected him.

The whole time I was working with him on this he was telling everyone that I was a bad director, that I wasn't listening to him, that the actors didn't respect me, that I was being mean and snappy.

I guess. Maybe I wasn't "good" at it. I have only directed once before this experience. I admit I am not the best director. But. My actors all told me that they did not feel stressed out and that they had fun on set. And I, at all times, did not feel stressed out. We started on time, we had fun but remained focused and we got to leave early.... I call that a success wouldn't you?

So. When I heard that all this had gone on behind my back I was a little more than fed up. I had dealt with these two saying shit behind my back before. Gaffer more than D.P.. And I only feel bad a little bit because I took it ALL out on

D.P. when I should have taken a lot out on Gaffer. Because

her shit-talking has gone on waaaaaay longer. Regardless. I'm sure she knows we're not cool.

So. I started ignoring them. The usual thing I do when I don't like someone. But D.P. texted me and asked "do you hate me?" and I responded "I'm sick of this. I need a break from our friendship". And he flipped out.

I shouldn't have expected anything less than a cardiac arrest from the two but... I was not expecting everything that ensued. D.P. bitched me out over text trying to get me to tell him who told me that he was saying shit and then came up to my room when I had told him I didn't want him to come up and yelled through my door at me.... Cause why would I want that energy in my room? Tell me that? What does talking it out in person going to do? I had made my mind up.

My favorite quotes from the two were:

"We only trash talked about Berlyn with you"

And

"If she wants to be a director she needs to take constructive critisism" (as though they had told me to my face the problems he had with my directing)

And (my personal favorite)

"I'm tired of this high school bullshit"

Yeah. This is college people.

Even if all of this hadn't gone down... I would still felt that lingering feeling of unacceptance in this "group" I was in, I was planning on withdrawing from the group before the shoot even happened, not fighting with D.P.

I'm not whining about this anymore. I'm just telling all of you that I've started to stand up for myself. I don't need poisonous people in my life.

I know they might wake up one day.... A day where they don't have to talk shit about everyone to feel okay about themselves, and can do their jobs without bringing in drama, and be good friends. When that day comes I will try to be friends again. But right now? I can't do it. I have too much on my plate and too many good things happening to me to be dragged down :)

Moving on. The following week:

March 14th- present.

After everything that happened with Russell and Marilyn had settled. I was hanging out with Julie a lot and talking to a lot of my guy friends (since the school is 90% men). I was invited to two production meetings.

For those of you who don't know what a production meeting is... It is a meeting where the production team meets up and discusses what needs to happen.

SO I GOT INVITED TO TWO OF THOSE!

TWO!

One with a guy from my screenwriting class and Julie. Where there is a VERY high possiblity that I will be the lead writer. That is tonight.

The other is with a bunch of my guy friends (basically all the people that I have wanted to work with but never got the chance). And the leader of this group told me, the other day, that I am the OFICIAL writer for the group. I was very excited..... Mostly because I love the group and because the leader really likes me (I like him too) and he's already in the business. The best part about him telling me I was the Oficial writer was that he's only read one of my scripts and it was a joke script about a totally unrealistic reunion... But he loved my dialouge and that's what got me the spot. He hasn't even read a script that I wrote with real characters and an actual plot.... It's all so exciting..... Just thinking about it makes me smile so big.

That's tomorrow..

BUT..... Possibly the biggest news is that last night my team won FIRST PLACE for the 48-hour film festival!!!!!!! I screamed. I was shaking like a leaf for an hour. I almost cried when my mom told me how proud she was.

Even before we won people were coming up and telling me how much they loved the film and that they wanted to collaborate. The leader of the production group I am the official writer for called me and congradulated me.

My guy friends all got second place and I was so happy that I could share that moment with them. They desereved it. Their film was terrific :) The only drama to place.

This isn't the first time I have ever won anything. Halloween I won second place for That's A Wrap. Which I wrote and helped direct (though I didn't get any credit). But winning this.... Well it felt so much better. I felt it confirmed everything that I had been thinking.

That Gaffer and D.P. can say all they want but I am good at what I do and people like my work. People like me and want to work with me.

Winning this. After everything that went down those three weeks made me feel like I was walking on sunshine. Made me feel like I had just won an oscar.

For the first time in my life I felt like I truly accomplished something.... Because people doubted me. There was AMAZING competition. There were tears, sleepless nights, yelling, gossiping and so much more. But after all of those panic attacks and everything.... There I was. Standing on stage holding my award, almost in tears.

I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything. Damn, I wish I could feel it everyday.

So, no. I wouldn't want a different experience in anyway, shape, or form. All the fighting, the disfuntction, the unhappiness was what needed to happen for this overall feeling of triumph. This feeling of being someone at my school, being apprieciated and noticed. I'm not saying that you should fight with people to feel successful.... I'm saying that I would not have felt the same way if I had never stood up for myself and taken a "break" from my friendship with D.P. and Gaffer. I would have felt the same way with That's a Wrap.... That something was wrong. Not right. And that I was sharing this victory with people that didn't give me the respect I deserved.

Even if I hadn't won. I would have kept things the same. It was a great experience. I would never want to unlearn everything I've learned from this.

So. Even though it was a hell ride... It all turned out all right. I couldn't be happier. Or more confident. And I think the friends I have now, here in California, are the people I want to remain friends with for a long, long time. The only people I would want to hug more than the friends I have here are the ones I have back home (and my family) who I will be seeing very soon.

Thank you to everyone that never doubted my abilities. Who never talked behind my back. Who was a true friend to me. Thank you. I am proud to have you in my life and I hope you want to stick around.

- Berlyn

P.S. To those of you who might have been offended by any of this.... I apologize. I didn't mean to offend anyone... Just to speak my mind. And to let everyone that there is never a cherry placed on top of a perfect sunday.... There is always a little shit here and there. Nothing and no one is perfect, we can only be the best we can be. Can't we?

Just bury me with all my books, okay?

It's dead week.

I don't know how it works for other universities, but here at WWU the week before finals week is called "dead week." It's pretty intense. Hours are extended at some of the on-campus markets and drip coffee is discounted past 5 pm to fifty cents. It's called the "red-eye special" or something like that. I've been a semi-active participant in this quarter's dead week, but I did not participate in the red-eye special... I made coffee in my room. I don't remember which day it was (because time has kind of been blending together the past couple of weeks), but I remember saying to my hallmate Ashley, "I probably should have only had ONE cup of coffee at 7:30, right?"

Anxiety levels have been high and energy has been low. I had my geology lab final on Thursday, which was the cause of much freaking out (but I got a 95.76% on the final and a 95.5% in lab overall! Yay!) and an extra credit "poster" due on Friday for geology lecture (and just got credit for completing it... hah...). My dear booboo Ashley Hurlbut and I spent a decent amount of time studying for our psychology final and will continue to study more tomorrow. I have two finals on Monday, which I'm not too thrilled about. Economics is at 8:00 am, which our professor kindly reminded us will feel like 7:00 am because of Daylight Savings Time. Then the psychology final is at 3:30 pm, which I am really stressing out about because I don't tend to do well on those exams even though I feel confident about knowing the material. Also, I have an extra credit paper due for psychology on Monday, which I've been working on all day. It's about my professor's book... and is not the most exciting read in the world. I've been writing the essay as I read the book. I intend to have this finished by tonight so I can spend all day tomorrow studying for economics and psychology. Then I'll spend Monday night and most of Tuesday studying for my geology lecture lab final on Wednesday, which I'm also kind of freaking out about.

I know this is not fascinating, and some of you may have way more to do than I do. However, I'm a little bit of a mess when it comes to managing stress. I absorb in four hours what others can take in in about thirty minutes. Projects that take me ten hours can take others two hours. I freak myself out about things, which detracts from time I could be spending doing something productive. While I was quickly reviewing my notes for my geology lab final, my geology lecture professor stopped by a table where a few other students and I were sitting. He reassured us all that we'd "rock" our finals (Get it? Rock? It's Geology! Okay...) and asked about our extra credit posters for his class. Noticing the panic in my voice, he told me not to worry about it and that it will all work out.

Don't worry? Don't worry about it... Such a foreign concept that is. Though, fair enough, he was right. I shouldn't have worried about it, because he didn't even read any of the information on my poster or ask me any questions. I got the same score as I would have if I had listed the lyrics to the Friends theme song. Maybe I should actually try to not worry when people tell me to not worry.

Anyway, I've been pulling my hair out all week trying to motivate myself and give myself enough energy. Right now, however, I have WAY TOO MUCH energy. Right before dinner, I burst into laughter for basically no reason. Samber yelled across the hall, "Karissa! Kim's lost it!" or something like that, and Karissa asked me if I was already going crazy from finals. No, I'm not going crazy from finals. I'm going crazy from dead week in anticipation of finals.

It is dead week and I am dead. DEADDDDDD.

I also do not agree with anything in the book I have to write a paper on... but since my professor who will be grading the paper is the author of the book, I feel like I should probably agree with her... or write her a love letter, at least. I just need her to like me and boost my grade, right? Ha.

Since I've been so tired, though, I've done some semi-awkward things this week. (Kim, awkward? No way!) For one, I slipped on my friend Sam's roommate's backpack. I stumbled, spilled coffee on myself, and, like a true lady, cursed. That was rather embarrassing. I can't remember other specific incidences (either because I was too tired to store them in my memory or because I've tried to block them out) but I do recall feeling like I kept saying a lot of strange things inappropriate for the situation.

I hope I'm not the only person who gets like this during dead week.

Anyway. I need to finish reading my book and writing my paper, so I'm going to say farewell.

For those of you studying for finals or facing your own dead weeks right now, I wish you good luck and hope you can remain sane.

-Kim

48-hours of INCREDIBLE mess-ups, tests of friendship, and injury upon injury upon injury.

The past few weeks have been some of the shittiest weeks since I moved to California. People fighting with other people, missing my family, missing my friends, missing my boyfriend, and being busy ALL THE TIME! But.... Per usual... Life will go on.

Hoever (this is my new word. It's like "however" but more slutty.... Lets make this a thing guys), this weekend is very, very, VERY special.

Me and a group of friends have enlisted in the 48-hour-film festival where you write, cast, film, and edit an entire five-minute film in 48-hours. To those of you not in any film classes : five-minutes never feels like five-minutes.... To those of you who are in film classes: Yeah... I ALREADY want to sleep for the rest of my life.

So anyways. My day started off like this:

7:00 Woke up and set my clock back ten minutes.

7:10 Woke up and ventured onto the internet for a bit.

7:15 Finally got up and got in the shower.

8:17 Headed down to meet my group and leave for the school.

8:48 Arrived at school.

9:00 Presentation!

So at the presentation we were told that we would have to add this line of dialouge: "What do you want from me?!", this action: A slap, and this object: A lipstick tube. Fun stuff... Right? Then we got all of our equipment and stuffed it into Mary's car.

The definition of fun by the way, if you didn't know.

Then Ryan and Julie (the editors) and I all went up to an editing suite. They found creepy music for the shoot while I fixed up the script... This was all very convinient because the first line of dialouge was already "What do you want?!" So we just added... Well you know.

We made one of the murderers slap the other one in defense.

And then we pulled a lipstick tube out of the pocket of my "dead" neighbor Calvin, covered it in blood and handed it to Scarlett.

10:00 - Group goes to IHOP.

None of us had eaten. Hence why we went there. But we couldn't shoot at that time anyways, the script takes place at night so... Daylight was a no-no.

Anyways. I'm not going to talk about IHOP... I thought I should just give a breif synopsis of the film. So... Here it goes. It will be up on youtube after the film festival.

So. The film starts with Rita, a twenty-something pretty girl, is dragged into an alley way by a mysterious man. The man has a knife to her throat when another man appears. It is another murderer, Phil. These two murderers proceed to argue who's alley way it is and who gets to murder Rita.

It's a REALLY dark comedy... But.... It's also "cute" cause I write cute stuff. The idea was thought up when my friend Julie and I were talking about a competeing murderer and rapist fighting over a girl in an alley way. We changed the rapist to a murderer so we wouldn't offend anyone. But... Phil's a necrophiliac so....... Similar.

One of the characters is based completely off of one of our friends here. Sam. He's great. He's SOOOOO funny and he's from Vermont and he's just so sweet. His character walks in murders a guy then walks up to the original two murderers and Rita and talks to them all politly.

Sam's great.

But everything else in the script was baisically me, sitting in front of my computer, cracking myself up.

10:30 - went back to dorms and gathered all of the things that we needed (though we still forgot the flashlight).

11:30 - We left for the location (an alleyway).

12:00 - Arrived at the alley way.

We blocked and talked and dillydalied for about six hours until the sun went down/ our actors came. It was AWFUL.

2:35 - Scarlett (our lead actress) calls and tells me she'll have to be late.

3:40 - Actors arrive....

Yeah... That was fun. We got all the actors there super early to rehearse then Scarlett had to leave and couldn't return until six. So we worked with the guys. The two guys bickering read through lines and stuff. Sam and Calvin (my neighbor) got to practice their "fight" scene. Where Sam kills Calvin.

That lasted till....

5:40 - Everything is set up and now we wait for Scarlett.

There was this one adult from Singapore that WOULD NOT LEAVE US ALONE I almost tore his face off. I finally told him to leave. It took much argument but he left. I mean, the guy was like, I'm a director, I've done this before, I'm making a feature.... ARG SO ANNOYING!

6:00 - Filming starts.

The first section of filming went perfect. The only problem was a few lines and continuity stuff. After that, anything that went badly was a combination of competitiveness, annoyance, and exhaustion. Half of our camera work looks like a five year old did it and whenever I yelled at people they were all hurt about it. I'm small, I have to yell.

Shit... I'm so tired I can't even see straight.

Anyways....

11:18 - Filming ends.

We were all pretty much dead. I hadn't sat for six hours at tha point and I had needed to pee since seven but hadn't. We planned to leave at midnight but.... We left early.... It as nice :) So.... We left...

11:35 - We all head home.

No all that is left to do is editing and seeing if we need to go back and get another shot. Yeah... The other shot thing might happen.

12:00 - Home, tired.

1:00 ish - started writing this blog.

Now I'm trying to think of a way to phrase my happiness and excitement towards this project. There are so many great things about it. I mean... I wrote the script and directed it but....... Those aren't the ONLY reasons it's great. I'm really excited about the project because I'm 99% sure I am quitting the production company afterwards :D

What I have learned from this shoot is that you can't always get what you want... You have to deal... Cause if you don't.... Someone might poison your muffins. You never, ever know.

For me, this experience has broght me back to what I said waaaaay back in October..... THIS is where I want to be and WHAT I WANT to do.... I'm happy being on the verge of total exhaustion. It takes me away from all the pain I have been feeling for like ever and brings me into the creation of something new.

Anyways.... I can't see straight... So I guess I will talk to you all in a few week.

- Berlyn

P.S. I reference three murderers in the script. The green river killer was one of them and half of the people had no idea who he was lol. Yep. I am from Auburn, WA totally.