Adventures in the Rain

Things seem to happen to me the most in the rain, don't they? The last time I did a post about rain, I talked about being mistaken for a prostitute (I think...or at least a runaway), and thist ime...well...see for yourself.

So on Sunday, I was still at Interlochen, to watch the commencement ceremony for the class of 2012. Only problem was, it was pouring rain, and my former high school is not exactly what you would call weatherproof. The pavilion where the graduation ceremony itself was held is under a roof, to be sure, but at Interlochen there are these giant spaces between buildings...also, we were parked in No Man's Land, because we got there fifteen minutes before the ceremony. So, naturally, there was a lot of "running for it." But luckily, just after the ceremony was over, it stopped raining, just long enough to get some pictures.

But after the reception, when Smilelover had to run back to her car before it started storming again, I forgot where we parked. A friend of ours was waiting in the dorm that just so happens to be at the ass-end of campus....and we were at the OTHER ass-end of campus, because as I said, we had to park in No-Man's land. Smilelover ran ahead--she's a good runner; I am not--and I got lost somewhere in the concourse. By that time, it was pouring. I mean really pouring. Thunder, lightening, enough water to drown Noah and everything on his Ark...the whole nine yards. And there I am, standing under the awning of the science building, with a totally unprotected Canon T2i. There was NO WAY I was going out in that. I frantically tried to call Smilelover upwards of 20 times, but my phone was nearly dead already and it died just as I finally managed to reach her. In desperation, I borrowed a plastic grocery bag from a teacher and prepared to run for it.

I ended up calling the dorm from the science building. Smilelover told me to come to TJ, the dorm, and I agreed to meet her there. I made it down the concourse, but of course outside it was still pouring. I stood at the door, trying to gather the courage to run out into that, when lo and behold, Soup Nazi appears, sees my plight, and offers to walk me over to TJ with his umbrella. (No, not the actual Soup Nazi...but this guy is hands down the most wonderful Soup Nazi impersonator I have ever witnessed, so that shall be his nickname for my blog.)

Initially I was exceedingly grateful...and then, he opened his umbrella, and I experienced a sinking feeling in my stomach. Umbrella? More like parasol. It looked like he'd picked from the six-year-old side of the umbrella store. The only way we were both going to get underneath this thing was to cuddle together...so we did, me holding up my long skirt (yes, I KNOW I'm a dumbass for wearing a long skirt when I knew there would be rain) and supporting my camera with one hand, the other arm around his waist, and his very long, very slender arm around my shoulders. On the count of three, we took off, tearing through main campus.

Two problems: 1) The puddles were about half a foot deep...and about half a mile wide. Our campus already sits between two lakes; seemed like a third was forming on our campus. Good thing I was holding up my skirt, because I was ankle-deep in icy water. 2) Remember when I said I wasn't a good runner? Well, turns out Mr. Soup Nazi is. He runs like a freaking gazelle. I, on the other hand, run like a drugged sheepdog. So after half a minute, not only was I staggering like a wino, but his arm had slipped from around my shoulders to around my neck, with his hand sort of dangling down my chest, so he was half-choking me, half-groping me as he skipped through the rain, upright and smiling like he was in a commercial of some sort, while I galumphed behind him feeling like a total idiot.

But oh, wait. It gets even better.

We make it to the hotel/cafeteria, which just happens to connect to the dorm...and where Soup Nazi's parents just so happened to be waiting. Oh, no. Much as I adore this boy, the last thing I wanted at that point in time was to meet anyone's parents. I was rocking the drowned-rat look, complete with a very disgruntled expression in addition to soaked hair and a white skirt that was so damp you could easily see my underwear. But Soup Nazi dragged me over to a couple that HAD to be either his parents or someone exremely closely related to him. I was silently praying for them to be maybe an aunt and uncle...but no such luck. He introduced me to his mother: "Mom, I'd like you to meet Avery...she's VERY special to me." *wink*

Time out here. You see, Soup Nazi is that special kind of Interlochen boy who is not "Gay by May," he's ALREADY gay when he arrives at the 'Lochen...but he will go to his grave insisting that he's straight. I always feel so awful for these boys, because I hate to see anyone be uncomfortable with all of the awesomeness that they are. Moreover I understand that some parents are not as accepting as they should be, and I totally get the need to make your parents happy (believe me, I do!). I would have happily posed as Soup Nazi's girlfriend...if he had asked me to. But I was tricked into it, and totally thrown off, and yes, I have been trained in improv acting, but I was never the best at it and, uh, on top of all that, let's not forget that I'm still a bit disoriented from being dragged through Main Camp by my throat.

At this point, I dearly wanted to take Soup Nazi's little lamp-shade umbrella and put it in a location that a doctor would have to remove it from...but I didn't. I played along. But I didn't make it easy on him. For instance: when he was explaining that I'd graduated the previous year, he blanked on my college name. He did guess that it was in Maryland, lucky for him, but I honestly enjoyed watching him squirm for those few seconds, just the tiniest bit. But the real icing on the cake was at the very end, when I finally managed to impress upon him that my friends were waiting for me, and he said good-bye by hugging me close and saying in an elaborate stage-whisper, I'd kiss you good-bye but my mother is watching us. Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen--he WANTED his mother to hear that.

I wanted to reply, That's okay, I'd kiss YOU good-bye but that would be a little counterproductive, seeing as I'm about to murder you. But I didn't. I sweetly, politely said good-bye to his mom and walked away.

He insisted on walking me to the cafeteria, and just before leaving me there--wait, this requires a bit more explanation. You see, I knew this guy last year, when I was still a student at Interlochen, and he, like half the campus, knew about my feelings for Saxophone Boy and, also like half the campus, was under the impression that Saxophone Boy and I were about to get married and ride off into the sunset. So, his parting shot to me--accompanied by a blown kiss and a wink--was, "Don't worry, I won't mention this to Saxophone Boy." And then he wisely got the hell out of there before I could throw something at him.

And I swear to God I am such a film student, because even as I turned around to walk away, even as I was so annoyed that I was actually considering running along behind him and beating him with his own umbrella, I thought to myself, Someday, this little anecdote is going into one of my screenplays.

As long as we're together, gonna kick some ass

The title of this post is a line from "Goin' Back to Hogwarts" from AVPM. I figured it fit, because today I went back to Interlochen for Festival (basically, reunion + graduation + a ton of performances, because hey, we're an art school) and I've always kind of seen that place as my Hogwarts...except at Interlochen, art is our magic. (Yes, I am fully aware of how corny that was.)

I fully plan to post pictures of the campus and of my lovely friends, but right now I just want to explain why I STILL miss high school. Not that I'm not "over" high school, as Hermione (the girl who went to my sorority formal, to refresh your memory) puts it, but I still miss my school...and hopefully, I can manage to explain why, without droning on forever and giving SOMEONE an excuse to remind me once again, "Avery, you're not in high school anymore."

I started this blog and abandoned my old one because I needed to get away from Alien Water Torture. Because I was still caught up in Interlochen, rather than being caught up in my college, and I needed to let go of things that I was still holding onto that, trust me, I didn't need to hold onto. So I made myself turn away. Not that I severed ties with Interlochen--far from it. But I stopped letting Interlochen define me. I stopped thinking "What would I have done at Interlochen?" and modifying the answer to fit my situation at McDaniel, and started thinking more along the lines of, "What can I do now that I'm on my own?"

So, I made myself move on. But I still feel homesick for my school sometimes--how could I not? Essentially, I had what I'd always wanted there--a giant, close-knit extended family. Let me put it this way: my relatives live all around the country. Texas, Maryland, West Virginia...and I live in Michigan. Most people traditionally see their extended families at family reunions, holidays, that sort of thing...but at Interlochen it felt like having my extended family there all the time. Not just a bunch of cousins, either. We had our roles. I had a "wife" and "child" there; I had "sisters" who I still talk to over Skype. It's crazy what happens when you take four hundred whimsical-minded art students and put them all on a small campus together. Really amazing. I had conversations I didn't even think were possible. Anyone who is here via Alien Water Torture, this is where my love of Stolen Dialogue comes from. Anyone who hasn't seen AWT...well, here's a sample of what I'm talking about:

Person one: Hello darling, how are you?

Person two: Student senate was bullshit, how are you?

Person one: Oh well spotted, Sherlock...I'm fine, thanks.

 

Person one: Is there anything technological you can't do?
Person two: I'm sure there's a few things...when I find out what those are, I'll just learn how to do them.
Person one: Can you make it look like this movie wasn't edited by a hormonal overemotional teenage girl?
Person two: Sure...but I didn't know you were asking Justin Bieber to edit your movie...

 

Person one: So, Valentine's day is coming up. I think you should profess your love.

Person two: I think so too!

Person three: Yes! I could sing it to him!

Person two: NOT LIKE THAT! Oh God, bring out the steak knives!

 

Person one: So we were playing the airplane game, where you sit with a group of people and try to figure out, if the world ended while you were up in an airplane with these specific people and you were the only survivors, who would you choose to mate with so you could repopulate the planet?

Person two: Well...technically...everyone would have to screw everyone else.

 

Person one: There is nothing gay about these boots.

Person two: Are you kidding me? There's nothing STRAIGHT about those boots!

 

Person one: Was he telling me to get lost? I can never tell.

Person two: The boat? I think the boat was saying "Get out of the way or I'll hit you."

Person one: No, not the boat, Harry! I KNOW what the boat was saying, it's your roommate I can't decipher!
Person three: ...Wait, you speak boat now?

 

Person one: I'm going to list you as my brother on FaceBook.
Person two: Oh, awesome!
Person one: Except...your boyfriend is already listed on my FaceBook as my brother.
Person two: Oh...well, we'll just pretend we're in the south.
Person one: Oh, that reminds me, there's this movie we HAVE to watch in GSA, it's about incestuous brothers!

 

Person one: Talking to you is like knitting a sweater out of mashed potatoes.
Person two: I've never done that before.
Person one: Do you knit?
Person two: I don't knit with mashed potatoes.
Person one: Actually, it's about as fun as knitting a sweater out of potatoes too, because--
Person two: Whoa, is that a compliment or the other way around?
Person one: I was SAYING, if you'd let me FINISH--yes, it's about as fun as knitting with mashed potatoes, because it's such a novelty. Every conversation is different, you know?
[silence, while Person Two looks at Person One like P1 is insane]
Person one: Oh, come on, admit it...you're glad to have me in your life.

 

And finally, my favorite:

 

Person one: You have to see Let the Right One In, you will see so many parallels to our friendship...except I'm not a vampire...and neither are you...

Person two: How do you know if I'm a vampire?

Person one: If you were a vampire, I would know.

Person two: Yes, but it's been mostly overcast since we met...so how do you know if I sparkle?

 

 

Yes. These are the kind of conversations that take place at Interlochen. (That was all stolen dialogue lifted straight from my blog, by the way. Just in case you didn't pick up on that.) Most of those conversations were mine. As in, I didn't just overhear them, I actually took part in them. The last one, especially. I'm always and forever going to cherish that moment. (Yes, Saxophone Boy, I'm looking at you right now.)

 

Oh, yes. Saxophone Boy. I always seem to forget him, don't I? But he was a big part of what made my senior year special. I think he knows that. (If he doesn't know it by now, I don't know what the hell he's doing in an Ivy League school; I'm not exactly what you would call subtle when it comes to emotions.) But to this day, we will still answer any random question the other asks with, "Because Edward loves Bella and vampires have two extra chromosomes!"--and neither one of us is a Twilight fan. Those are inside jokes you just can't force. They have to come naturally, and with us, they always did. That's the kind of friendship that can only grow at Interlochen. If I say something utterly ridiculous in a letter to Saxophone Boy, he will grab it and run with it. In fact, I can't say something stupid in a letter to him--he turns it into comedic gold. Again--you can't force that kind of chemistry in a friendship; it only develops naturally, and ours didn't wilt when we stopped seeing each other every day.

 

And that, right there, is why I love Interlochen.

 

You know what? It's not just him. All of the friends I made at Interlochen are like that. And I'm not talking about the nice seeing you every day at lunch, ok we graduated now we'll never see each other again we'll just 'like' each other's statuses once in awhile friends--I'm talking about the people I still regularly contact because I miss them too damn much to stop speaking to them. (You know who you are.) I can log onto Skype and within moments be virtually assaulted by Goddamn Gypsy, and her insistence that I read her latest story or that she be allowed to read mine. Similarly, I can receive at least ten skype calls a month from Smilelover, who has a charming knack of waiting until I fall asleep at my computer, forget to turn my computer off, or get into class and am using my laptop to take notes, and then calling me. (But on the occasions that she actually manages to catch me, we have epic, lovely conversations.) Saxophone Boy painstakingly responds to my rambling, ridiculous letters. VanSant2 responds to every one of my IMs, even if he only has time to tell me he can't talk right then. (Isn't that sweet? I think it is.)

 

Today I went back, and was afraid that I would find it changed. I was afraid that I would feel unwanted, as I had often felt on-campus (I've explained this before--long story short, I didn't do as well in my major as I would have liked; most of my friends were outside my discipline). I love Interlochen--I love the friends I've been fortunate enough to make there--I love my teachers--but it wasn't always sunshine and butterflies, and I was afraid that stepping back on-campus would remind me of that.

 

It didn't.

 

Yes, there was a little bit of regret mixed in with the nostalgia. But you know what? I was not unwanted. I'd been missed. I got some of the best hugs of my life. People I didn't even remember knew who I was. I realized that I had, in some way or another, left my mark on that school. Is my picture up in the concourse? Am I remembered as well as certain other members of my graduating class? No, and of course not. But I wasn't immediately forgotten--and that was what I was afraid of. But that didn't happen. People missed me--people I didn't even know would miss me, missed me. (If that rambling makes sense. Give me some credit here; it's been a very long, very emotional day...and I'm damn tired.)

 

A member of my class, whom I'd always considered something of a rival, revealed that not only did he stalk my YouTube, but that he liked my films. That, to me, was the biggest triumph. (Yes, I realize that only a film major would say this.) He praised my work, told me he wanted me to continue, complimented my junior thesis (I'm still not sure that praise was deserved), and told me not to give up on Alien Water Torture. And maybe he was just being polite...but I don't think so. This was almost as amazing as last year, at the end of my senior-year film screening, when the hardest-to-please MPA came up to me and told me my film was one of his favorites. (What can I say? I'm a sucker for a film-related compliment.)

 

I missed this place more than I can express. But you know what? Coming back to it now, when I've grown and changed and know how to define myself without it, makes seeing it so much sweeter. Will I always wish, on some level, that I'd done things differently in high school? Without a doubt. But I know now that I can stand on my own--and that lets me see Interlochen through entirely different eyes. And that is a reward in itself.

 

 

Wildflowers and Strawberry Yogurt

Finals are over, the warm weather is finally here, and I'm back in Michigan with my parents. It's not quite summer yet, but dear God, is summer ever on its way. Right now I can look out my window and see a lovely in-ground pool calling my name...but, sadly, I can't swim right now, thanks to a cough so loud and violent it makes a rottweiler's bark sound like a mewling kitten. But I can see the pool outside, and the dandelions and little purple wildflowers growing on the golf course behind it (yes, I live on a golf course, and yes, this does provide endless entertainment when I occasionally find golf balls in my backyard). I'm eating strawberry yogurt cake topped with fresh strawberries--does anything SCREAM summertime like fresh fruit?--and all the windows are open, so it's sunny and bright and pleasant in here.

Now, if only my throat would stop hurting...

It feels weird being home for the summer, because I've gotten so used to being at McDaniel. But what feels really weird is knowing where I'll be in the fall. So far, there's only been one time that I knew where I was going and how it was going to be when I went back to school--and that was when I went back to Interlochen for my senior year. Now, I know it will be different when I go home to McDaniel. I won't be living in a dorm, for the first time in three years. I'll actually be living in a house, with seven other girls (now THAT is going to be interesting, I can tell you that right now). We're not a sorority house, though--we're Allies House, and damn proud of it. (Yes, Kerouac Boy, I can see you rolling your eyes and making comments about me living in "the Gay House" and all the terrible things the Carroll County residents are going to do to us--call me delusional if you must, but I'm staying optimistic.) Also--I have THREE classes in my major in the fall. Count 'em--THREE. Acting (just kill me now, please), Intro to Cinema (with Professor Brett--yay!) and...drumroll, please...SCRIPTWRITING.

Yes.

I am in a college scriptwriting class. 3000-level, to be precise. May I remind everyone, I'm a rising sophomore?

Now, my teacher knows I've been taught to write screenplays. In fact, this is actually my fourth screenwriting class--sixth if you count the workshops--but it's the first class where I'll be expected to write a feature script. Not gonna lie, I'm a bit nervous about that. I love writing, yes, but my feature screenplays are...there's no polite way to say this...not very good. I draw from what I know far too much. But I know Professor Brett is a good teacher, and I've got all summer to come up with ideas that don't scream, "Avery wrote this script about her life."

Just realized...I have two classes with my favorite teacher next semester. I mean, I knew this already, but it seriously just hit me. Okay. Now I REALLY can't wait for fall.

I'm peer mentoring...yes, this is an actual thing at my college...for my freshman advisor, who taught the most epic gender studies class EVER...and I already have a plan to make my freshmen thnk I'm completely insane. (Which, trust me, wouldn't take too long even if I didn't do what I'm planning to do.) I'm going to waltz into the room on the first day wearing a floor-length skirt, carrying a parasol and speaking in Nadsat, then let one of my guy friends (I'm looking at you again, Kerouac Boy) pop into the room wearing one of my Vagina Monlogues t-shirts. And then we'll proceed to mimic scenes from A Clockwork Orange, and then we'll stand back and watch the fireworks. (Don't worry, Dr. Carpenter...I'm not actually going to let it get that far.) If they don't think I'm absolutely batshit by the end of all this, this means one of two things: Either I'm in very, very big trouble, or I have the best FYS mentees in the entire program. It all depends on how they react.

I've got so much to look forward to it's impossible not to be excited about next semester...but I'll still enjoy my summer. After a few days I'll post some of my parents' stolen dialogue, and you will see why.