hoping it would all be an April Fool’s joke.  It wasn’t.

If you love, like, or even take a casual interest in cinematic masterpieces, come out to the Vista tonight!  One night only.  LOVE LOVE LOVE — written by, directed by, and starring yours truly.  Finally, I can join the company of Woody Allen, John Cassavetes, Werner Herzog, and Elaine May and call myself a multi-hyphenate.  It’s been a long time coming, my friends.

Anyway, I’m really proud of the final cut, and think you’ll all enjoy it.  There’s something in it for everyone, so don’t miss out.  It could quite possibly be a life-changing experience; at the very least, prepare to have your mind blown.  See you tonight!

***OH, and CORRECTION:  The show starts at 9 tonight, not 8.  Although I wouldn’t discourage you from getting to the theater at 8 to reserve your seats…

I almost lost my mind just now.  I’ve been spending all my time in the media lab, working on some very important projects, including a super secret video for Matthews’ class.  After rendering about 50% of the video footage I filmed over the weekend, the system totally crashed.

I was just a shade away from going into some epic conniptions.  Like that lady at the Hong Kong airport.  Oh my god, do you know what I’m talking about?  Just go to YouTube and search “woman missed flight.”  That was how I felt on the inside, just five minutes ago.

Why do computers always crash at the most inopportune times?  Don’t they know I’m on deadline?!  Luckily, Navid was able to put me back on track.  All is well…for now…I hope.  My video isn’t quite ready to meet the world just yet, but soon.  Soon!  In the meantime, you should get a headstart on bracing yourself for artistic genius.

Where does the time go?  What a mystery.  This past month — it’s already been a month?! — has felt like a week.   A short week, even.  Monday through Thursday, tops.  Being in love has really, really warped my sense of time.  Have you seen Synecdoche, New York yet?  It’s like that.  I wake up one Valentine’s eve in February, go to school, spend all my free time with my boyfriend, then all of a sudden, it’s five days past the Ides of March.  I’ve been in a haze.  Has this ever happened to you?  You get into a relationship, then become M.I.A.  You fall into a secret portal…to a place off the face of the earth…where your friends, your family, the greater blogging community, anybody-but-your-boyfriend can’t find you.

But hi.  I’m back!  And I’ve missed you too — dearly.

I’ve got lots to tell.  I’ll be spilling some beans soon enough…

Yesterday while I was working on a project in the media lab, I caught this snippet of ridiculousness: 

Strangely, I was not annoyed by ThumbwrestleMania ’09.  I truly believe it to be a Valentine’s Day miracle that I wasn’t.  I actually found it to be kind of adorable, and even officiated a round.  Crazy!  Love is everywhere this year, I guess. Even in the West Bev media lab.

I used to loathe (looooooooooathe) Valentine’s Day.  How manufactured and generic and cheesy can you get with the candygrams, the cards, the flowers?  But this year?  I feel like it makes sense to me.  It never has before.  Not even when I was majorly and stupidly head-over-heels in love with Jordan Owen in the 8th grade.

This year, I’m thinking:  OF COURSE I wanna celebrate it, OF COURSE I’m gonna do it up, OF COURSE I want it to be the most amazing night I’ve ever spent with my…Valentine.  My Valentine.  I can’t believe I just wrote that.  Well, I can’t believe I don’t feel like a complete loser for having written that.  And I can’t believe that candygrams, cards, and flowers don’t seem so lame anymore.  They actually seem like something I…wouldn’t not want.

So this Valentine’s Day has to be perfect.  But slight problem:  I don’t exactly know what that entails.  I need your suggestions now!  I’ve been buried in my poetry project for Matthews’ class, and haven’t had time to plan properly.  Please help me plan!  Please help me appreciate Valentine’s Day for the first time in my life, people!

In the spirit of finally saying those three little words, I’ve been compiling a list of other things I love and adore.  They include, but certainly aren’t limited to…

…that moment in Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” when the lyrics all of a sudden turn French (Qu’est que c’est?!).  Awesome, awesome song.

…sitting at the counter at The Peach Pit when Dixon’s working.

…making movies.  And pointing my camera towards the sky to create sun flares.

…rainy days in Los Angeles.  And then the sunny days that come afterward.

…driving to school in the morning while listening to the soundtrack to Les Miserables  (kinda random, but that was my routine for this past week).

…when pizza/slumber parties with Kelly & Sammy end up spanning an entire weekend.  Nothing beats that.

…writing character studies for Mr. Matthews’ English class.  I get so into them, I sometimes wind up pulling all-nighters.  Willingly and happily, even.

…the most amazing thrift store in LA ever — its coordinates I will reveal to nobody.

…my favorite taco truck in Echo Park — its coordinates I will only reveal to select dinner companions.  

…impromptu dance parties in Annie Wilson’s bedroom.

…double features at the New Beverly Cinema.

…iChat tea parties with my English penpal, Martine Yong.  It’s the absolute best way to collapse 5500 miles and an 8 hour time difference (Hi Marty!).

…eating cake for dinner.  Preferably buttermilk, with chocolate frosting.

…poems by Richard Brautigan.  Just Google “Boo, Forever” and you’ll see why.

…reading the old Calvin & Hobbes comic books that Kelly has laying around the house.

…trying to dress like characters in Japanese anime.

…spending Saturday afternoons just loafing at La Brea Tar Pits, then walking over to that streetlights installation at the LACMA when it gets dark.

…and it goes on and on.

If you feel like it, add something you love to this list.  I’d love to know what you love too.

What was I on when I wrote that Victorian courtship post last week?  I mean, fans and gloves?  Why give a guy a glove to express your feelings for him when you can just tell him, straight up:  I love you.

Not to get too confessional or anything, but I’d never said it to a guy before yesterday.  What was so hard about saying it?  I have no clue.  I’d had the feelings; I just couldn’t bring myself verbalize them.  Then I did.  Now I can’t stop saying it.

I love you
I love you
I love you.

And  it feels…magical?  Wonderful?  Every synonym for amazing?  Every antonym for awful?

I haven’t felt this good in a really long time.  First I get back into Matthews’ class, now this.  I’m so happy, it’s unreal.  Sorry if this is getting annoying, but bear with me:  I’m in love.

With whom, you ask?  He knows who he is.  He totally knows.  Now.

Out of sheer and total boredom, I’m attempting a little experiment:  an online slam book.  I know it’s a total junior high thing to do — but unless you’re me, you’re probably at your most candid while anonymous.  Me, I have no filter or shame.  As you well know.

So let the first online slam book installment begin.  To start, I pose this question:

Who’s the hottest guy at West Bev?

Past and present — if you want, you can include your senior crush who graduated three years ago.  Teacher, student, custodian — all good.  And no.  I’m not above asking stupid slam book questions, or wanting to know your answers.

Any of these guys make your list?

Spill.  Because inquiring minds want to know!

Sorry for the lack of posts.  It’s been a rough week…

And to top it all off, I’ve had to endure over a week of shameless PDAs from two of my friends — let’s call them Schmannie and Schmethan — and now I’ve hit a wall.  Schmannie and Schmethan have been lovey-doveying it up anywhere and everywhere public (I’m sure you’ve seen ‘em around).   They have no discretion; no sense of decorum; no regard for our appetites at lunchtime.

Enough.  It’s disgusting.  And far be it from me to be some kind of crotchety killjoy to tell my friends to “Get a room,” but, Get a room.  Take it somewhere other than the West Bev cafeteria.  I’d like to enjoy my recycled meat sloppy joe in peace, thank you.

What I’m asking is this:  what ever happened to good old coyness?  I’m not a prude or regressive or anything, but I wouldn’t mind taking things back to the Victorian times.  When couples wouldn’t even touch each other during a courtship.  Like, the way a woman would express her love for a guy would be by giving him a glove.  I mean, why tell a guy you love him when you could just give him a glove?  Sign me up.  For real.

And considering that I can be a misanthrope and can therefore hate talking to people at times, I think it’d be beyond rad to be able to express myself by way of a hand fan.  Victorian women developed this insane fan code.  Fast fan: “I’m independent!”  Shut fan:  “I hate you!”  Fan with left hand in front of face: “Leave me the hell alone, sucka!”  I’m telling you guys:  Victorian times is where it’s at.

Because sucking face in public sucks.  It’s selfish, annoying, and gives the people around you yet another reason to not want to eat a recycled meat sloppy joe.

Glovely yours,
Silver