Where I've Been

And whaaaaaaaaaat IIIIIIIIIIIIII've DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE

That was the musical moment of the day. Don't expect anything more. Seriously. Don't.

Anyway, I figured you needed a little news update to confirm that I have not been kidnapped by white-slave traders and been sold to a very handsome and intelligent man's harem for a few months of delicious toe-curling sex.

Yeah, I know. I wish.

No, instead I'm juggling school and friends.

On the school front, I am pleasantly surprised. Not only are my grades kickass (and by this I mean that they haven't been this kickass since the sixth grade, where I got regular 90s/100), but on top of that, I'm pulling them off IN SPITE of my increasing social life.

And trust me, no one is more surprised than I am about that last detail.

I was accepted in pretty much every university program I applied to, EXCEPT the one Slim and I really want. We're still waiting for the mid-April summons to see if we were selected for interviews.

At least, though, we know we both have the option of attending the screenwriting certificate at the UQÀM together: we both got our confirmation letters last Wednesday.

I really hope we can enter the baccalaureate, though. I hate waiting for this kind of thing.

School is also awesome in that all my team projects are rockin' on. Honestly. My Mass Media team, composed of Slim and Gabie, earned us a 91.9% grade on both the ten-page analysis and our oral presentation.

"You'd have had 98% if I hadn't been on your team," Slim joked when we received the highest grade in the promotion. Gabie and I ignored him and giggled like idiots.

Most of my teams are with either Slim, Gabie or one of my movie-making teammates.

And since we're on the subject, let's mention them.

They.

Rock.

So much.

Actually, I believe that anyone who read this blog last term would know that after my LAST movie-making experience, this one could only be better.

And oh. It SO is.

The pure irony of my new team is that we share a supervisor with none other than... Dom and Gen's new team!!! This is Slim and my cue to laugh aloud.

From the very first class, we knew we were going to get even with them. I mean, seriously. It had started that day where we were supposed to present our film ideas to the class. Everyone had to come in with a movie synopsis and present it to the group. Our group is composed only of two teams, so half the class was directly concerned by your suggestion while the other half only listened out of courtesy.

Dom, our esteemed (not) ex-producer, had insisted on going first.

Oh man, you had to be there. Slim and I had folded our arms on the table and were trying not to quake with barely suppressed laughter. Every time we'd gather our composure, we'd glance at each other and stifle new guffaws.

Dom has a reputation now. Of having incomprehensible and obscure (and boring) film ideas. He thinks that to be artsy, the film has to be inaccessible. Which is wrong on so many levels that I'm not even going to delve into the matter.

If you have trouble grasping what I mean, think of it this way: he's like an annoying dude on FF.Net who would write dark poetry without structure, grammar, or logic, then claim that it's interpretive art if anyone tells him he sucks.

That's Dom. Except he doesn't limit the damage to writing. He also spreads it to sound capture, images, AND screenplays.

It's a disaster, and so Slim and I can't help but hold in our wailing laughter in order not to look too suspicious.

We thought we hid it rather well. I'd only gotten one evil glance from Gen in the whole fifteen minutes that Dom had been up there explaining his idea (which no one understood, and not because we were laughing). It was something about a man in a forest cutting a tree, and then the tree started bleeding, and he had to go get medication for his daughter― anyway, it was weeeeird.

"Wait, Dom," Pierre, our film teacher, had interrupted him. "I don't quite understand."

At this, Slim had made a high-pitched sound and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking so obviously that I had tears in my eyes in my attempt to keep from laughing.

"What," Pierre asks, "is your motivation for making this film, Dom?"

This was our undoing. Dom just stood there...

And found nothing to say.

To this day, the image still makes Slim and I laugh to tears. Especially since I was the next in line, and my idea had garnered a lot of enthusiasm. It was a movie about sorcery: a girl found a spellbook in her attic and decided to try the spells... only to realise that the only reason her problems were solved was because she actually chose to do something about them. Bottom line was that magic was everywhere, and we never really notice it unless we pay attention.

"And your motivation, CM?" Pierre had asked me at the end of my presentation.

"Well, honestly," I said, "it's because for some reason I always seem to receive books and information on sorcery ―don't ask me how! I'm not a witch, I promise!" This had made everyone laugh. "And so I know a lot about witchcraft; this would be an easy film to write for me. Not to mention that I'm really up for doing a lighthearted movie. We get too much sombre student films about paranoids and schizos. This would make for a nice change."

See? That's what Pierre needed to hear.

Slim had gone right after me. He, too, had a good film synopsis. He even managed to pull off a one-line pitch, which is rather hard to do: "It's the story of a guy who complains all the time and finally decides to solve all his problems in one day."

This had made Pierre interrupt to congratulate him on his one-line summary, which is essential to any film pitch. Slim had laughed.

"And my motivation," he added at the end, glancing at me and trying not to laugh some more, "is because this movie has a lot of comedic potential, and I agree with CM on not having enough funny films made. And it also rings true, since I'm the kind who complains a lot in silence and hardly ever does anything to help myself. what can I say? I'm a whiner."

This was greeted with chuckles, but only I knew how much further the meaning went. He was referring to our film experience from last term: our bad movie with obscure and depressing themes, and our keeping silent on how much we hated our teammates until the very end...

The whole class was really excited by our ideas. I have to say that our whole team had really great ideas.

Speaking of my new teammates, I may as well introduce you.

Of course, there's Slim and I. You know us, so just be assured that we chose to stick together for this term, once again, because we work and get along so well. We also hand-picked our new teammates by checking their past references in secret and ensuring that we would have good-workers with us.

We couldn't, however, predict the chemistry of the final group, so I cannot explain to you how glad I am of the result.

Our appointed producer is Gabriel. He's a smart guy, excellent in theatre, with good improvisation skills and a sort of humour that you don't expect. He seems quiet and introspective, but he's actually the funniest of us all. You never expect his jokes. He also has a great leadership potential because of his calm attitude; he has more film experience than the rest of us ―he's been around longer― and he is open to everyone's ideas. Slim and he worked together on a few extracurricular shows, so I knew that he would fit in. (Basically, he's the exact opposite of Dom.)

Our assistant producer is AA. She's loud and she likes to wave her arms around a lot. Still, she's sweet, no-nonsense, and as ready to laugh as anyone. We don't know if she's cut out for the post: she seems rather average as far as organisation goes, but she commads attention from us when she wants it ―meaning she can call us back to order― and she seems very determined to do a good job ―which will make up for her average sense of organization.

Our camera woman is Iva, though she shares jobs with our photographic director, Maria. Iva seems quiet and meek. She's the typical gorgeous-but-doesn't-know-it quiet girl whom everyone likes and that every guy has a major crush on. I'd hate her for it if she weren't so funny. You never expect her to, but sometimes she quietly speaks up and says the most hilarious things, you can't help but crack up. She's almost as random as me, and that's saying something.

Maria, on her part, is sometimes hysterical but mostly, she looks out for everyone's welfare. She rarely initiates any insanity, but she'll go along with it until the end. High-pitched, loud, arms-flailing, she's hard to miss. She's also talented, patient, and knows how to get a job done properly. Her suggestions are always sound and well-grounded, so her ability to look at things differently is invaluable.

Our scripter is Laura, who is mostly the most outcast of us. She's prudish, a little meek to hang out with the bold group that we are, but she can force her way in and have her word be heard. Organised and structured, we know she'll do a good job of keeping track of everything we do. She's also our artistic director, which we're grateful for since she has a practical view on costumes and décor, which are a vast domain that would freak us out otherwise.

Then, of course, there's Slim and I, who do the same jobs as last term because we got so good at them. Slim holds the mic', and I am in charge of sound recording. Then, Slim gets to do the editing in post-prod.

Gabriel and I are in charge of writing the scenario, and I have to say that it ROCKS. I am, in fact, stunned by its successful start.

We took Slim's main character, thrust it into Iva's storyline, and used my stylistic approach.

Pierre, in our individual team meetings, had actually been shocked to see us mix his top three favourite plot ideas (from our team) into one. He had openly admitted that stories rarely ever mixed so well.

We'd laughed, but then Pierre had added, very seriously, "Honestly, when I saw all your names in one team, I almost freaked out. I went, 'This is the dream-team'."

We were so flattered, and it hasn't stopped. Every week, during the team meetings, Pierre's jaw drops even more.

At the first scenario deposit, he had been stunned by how clear and structured Gabriel and I were, not to mention how funny and exciting our screenplay was. He had said, "In all my years as a cinema teacher, I have never seen a student film that was so good on its first draft."

Which was immediately followed by a full hour of excited improvements we could make. Slim and I had exchanged a glance and smiled.

Last week, we'd held the team meeting with him, and talked amongst ourselves very seriously, and had almost forgotten Pierre was even there. At that point he'd stopped us ―we'd been surprised― and said with a broad smile, "You guys amaze me."

This, coming from a guy who worked for the National Film Board and done a couple of professional movies himself, was so flattering that we could only chuckle nervously.

"You know what I love the most?" Slim had confessed over lunch downtown last weekend. He'd chosen a table next to a fountain for the two of us in the food court ('Loooook, it's so romantic, and it'll distract you from my gross table manners!'), and we had been talking for over an hour, just sitting there. "It's that... I know we're a good team and all, but it's the fact that other people confirm it. I have such a great feeling about this term..."

"I know what you mean. Honestly, though, every time I look back on it, I can't help but be grateful that you were there last term. I think I'd have gone insane without you in my team."

Slim looked horrified. "Geez, you think you're the only one who feels that way? What would I have done without you? Imagine! I wouldn't have had the guts to revolt if you hadn't been there."

"I AM more outspoken," I admitted, teasing him. He's the kind who has strong opinions but won't let anything show on the surface. I'm a little more transparent, and we both know it. "... You know what my favourite part of last term was?"

"What?"

"When you cheered me up after Dom and Gen insulted me. You know, with the emails? God, I'd been on the verge of tears that night. Those assholes. And then, you come back from work, get online, and you just... I mean, that was so sweet, yet twisted, of you. The way you cheered me up, I mean."

"Oh, you mean the 'how will they bitch against us when they have no friends' thing?" Slim looked pleased with himself. He shoots me a gentle smile, the tender kind that he won't make unless we're alone. "Hey, I couldn't have you become a basketcase on me."

"Jerk." I pull my tongue at him.

"Honestly, though," and here I see the sweetest expression come over him. He's a real sweetheart, but he usually hides it under a blank, loud or teasing exterior. I always feel privileged when he softens up like this, "I am really grateful that we were together in that one, and that we're in it together this time too." He looks thoughtful for a moment, then adds, "I really hope we can continue working together next year, in university."

It was hard to keep from smiling, so I didn't hold back. "I hope so, too."

So now it's a matter of time before we know what happens. I have to say that going downtown regularly for application matters and museum visits with him is part of what makes our friendship fun, especially since we spend most of our traveling time discussing the survival story that I'm writing for him and the boys... starring him and the boys in a military context where Montreal is under siege.

Yes, I know, I'm not writing fanfiction at the moment. I know. But I am still writing, and I may publish the story online at some point. It's just that, for a change, this story is original.

One might argue that using people who already exist as main characters would make it partial fanfiction, but I'm not so sure. The fact is that the idea was spawned in one of my numerous talks with Slim about Montreal's underground city, and he wanted to make a movie about it, but then I went proactive and chose to write it as a literary fiction rather than wait for us to get funds we would never have.

I've heard no complaints so far. In fact, all the guys are heavily urging me to continue. It stars Slim, but he co-stars with PB, Rick, Guy, Drew, Mitch, Ban, Fred, and any other of our friends who didn't think it was too weird.

"Man," I'd confessed to Slim once, on the bus home, "you know, though, what bugs me about the story? The fact that Guy is obsessively pressuring me to continue. I mean, I appreciate feedback and encouragement, but the pressure is a little too much to take sometimes. I love the story, but he makes me a little nervous."

Slim had listened to my rant for a good fifteen minutes. I have to say that I'm used to the pressure. I'd felt it, towards the end, from the online community. It's no one's fault but mine, of course, but I figured that if I could no longer stand the heat, it was time for me to step back and cool down.

Which was what I was doing by writing for a more restricted audience... before I realised that my writing skills hadn't cooled down and that they actually did cause a hype anyway, even faster than it happened online, only this time it was amongst my friends.

And that is a little harder to ignore.

I was flattered, and I still am. Except that Guy had taken a massive interest in it and was pressuring me to rival the big sci-fi authors of our time. Honestly. I hadn't dared to tell him that I probably wasn't going to fight to meet his expectations. I mean, that would be a little callous.

So Slim listened to me rant about this before he shook his head. In the slanting rays of the sun, he was half-red, half-shadow, and I noticed that he had natural blonde highlights in his brown hair that looked like threads of gold.

"Don't worry about Guy. You're not writing for him, are you?"

I was surprised by this, and tried not to look too nervous. I mean, you know how I keep encouraging people to write for themselves, and not for the reviews...

"You mean I should write for myself?" I ask, trying not to freak out.

"No."

Blink. Blink.

"I mean you should write for me." His face breaks into a huge, laughing grin. "I'm the main character, and it was my original idea, and it's not like I'm pressuring you or anything. And you know that if I do, it's only for fun. I don't want you to feel pressured."

He cracks up at my dumbfounded expression. "Oh, man, you don't get it. Don't write for people who make you miserable." He looks straight into my eyes. "CM, think of it this way. You're writing for me. Only for me."

He looks intent and I can't look away. It's the contrast of the sun and the shadows on his face.

"I won't make you miserable because of it. I won't pressure you. I love that story. Write. For. Me." He shrugs. "That way, you won't be disappointed."

I am still stunned, and I feel a little mushy on the inside, dammit.

Love,
CM