lierdumoa: (pretentious)
WTF is this bullshit about people making sad, pathetic, SEXIST knockoffs of Mr. and Mrs. Smith?

First Katherine Heigl makes the travesty that is Killers.

Now Cameron Diaz makes yet another travesty in Knight and Day.

Seriously, how much of a douchebag does a producer/director/writer have to be to look at a movie like Mr. and Mrs. Smith and think to himself -- 'Lets replace the strong female lead with a helpless dumb blonde'?

Because no one wants to see an action/comedy with a competent female lead in a romance that's actually based on mutual respect. We all know what a terrible *failure* Mr. and Mrs. Smith was at the box office. Clearly what that movie really needed to be a success was DAMSELS AND CHAUVINISM.


lierdumoa: (homework be done!)
Warnings for profanity. I'm in a vulgar place. Possibly the lack of sleep. Or the eighteen hours of Perspective homework.

No, that's not an exaggeration. It's not including breaks either.

So for those of you who don't know, I'm in art school majoring in 3-D Animation.

I forgot how thin on the ground women were in this major, not having had any computer courses last semester. I walked into a class of eighteen to find myself one of three girls, one of whom was not even a computer animation major. She was a third year illustrator taking it as an elective and, oh my God, the most nervous person I have ever seen. She spent the entire period with her head turned all the way around, glancing from person to person, wide eyed and squirrely. I wanted to hand her a valium or something.

The guy next to me kept trying to make small talk. Pathetic, pathetic small talk. He most likely was trying to flirt with me. If I get stuck sitting next to him again, I'm telling him, "I'm sorry. I've had a long day and I really don't feel like making conversation."

My instructor? Scary intense. He was like, "The school policy is to only excuse absenses with a doctor's note or a death in the family. BUT THAT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN IN MY CLASS, IS IT. Everyone who's going to be here every class raise your hand."

Suffice it to say, I raised my Goddamn hand.

And saved my bitching and moaning for when I got home.

[ profile] lierdumoa: Oh God, they're all gamers.
[ profile] fashes: Well, of course.
[ profile] lierdumoa: I just want to work in movies or tv or advertising. So. Many. Gamers.
[ profile] lierdumoa: I feel like I should have a name for them.
[ profile] fashes: Other than gamers?
[ profile] lierdumoa: Something with cursing in it. I suppose I could just call them the motherfucking gamers.
[ profile] fashes: Just gamers is like that to me. You never had to sit through a six hour family meeting about the Game.
[ profile] lierdumoa: Right, your brothers got addicted. And stopped sleeping.
[ profile] fashes: We called EverQuest EverCrack. Hey, you could just call them crackheads.
[ profile] lierdumoa: No, that's not quite right. They're not just addicted to the crack, they want to create it.
[ profile] lierdumoa: Oh. Dude.
[ profile] lierdumoa: They're EverCrackers.

In related news, I made up my schedule in google. Then I decided it needed color coding, so I futzed with it in photoshop.

Innit pretty? )
lierdumoa: (given a choice)
I want to finish a vid.

I want to finish a vid so badly.

I started my Rodney vid, and then realized I had to start on my Club Vivid vid, and then realized I wasn't going to finish it in time and started on my current vid. I've been starting vids for half a year.




And now I've trapped myself in a situation where I have to clip. I hate clipping. I've done everything in my power to avoid clipping. My hatred for clipping is only outmatched by my quality whoring. Hence, I am clipping, because it is the only way I can vid my beautiful high quality HD source without my computer breaking without buying another two gigabytes of ram. And it is taking weeks and I am so, so sick of this miserable vidder's purgatory where I'm just waiting, waiting, waiting to be creative again.

I want to be in that place again where it's 3 in the morning and my eyes are burning and I'm so tired I can only lift one eyelid at a time and I'm watching colors wash across the preview window and I'm drugged by vidding.

Pretty When You Cry. I skimmed my way through five seasons of episode transcripts for a show I had never seen, downloaded thirty plus episodes, battered myself against the thickest, most retarded piece of editing software in existence to vid a piece of music I loved for a fandom of total strangers.

Superman. I clipped four seasons of a show in three days and pulled it all together to make a six minute vid to a rap song half my audience hated on principle with a brand new, never used copy of Adobe Premiere 7.0 Pro with the insane idea that if I could just finish this wihtin the eight day deadline I could say everything I ever wanted to say about my one true pairing in the Queer as Folk fandom.

The Chemicals Between Us. I tried to use the wind/blur effect on my vid titles to get an effect like the titles in the movie I was vidding. It looked like ass. I figured I could make the effect match if I photoshopped it frame by frame. But that was, like, crazy. Then Bush got re-elected and I needed a distraction. And made the best vid credits I've ever made with nothing but cut and paste and the blur tool and a wannabe photoshop program I'd downloaded for free so aptly named GIMP. I'm sure there are other things I did in the November of 2004 than vid, but honestly, I don't remember what they were.

Teeth in the Grass. The two day vid that took five weeks. My vid wasn't brown enough. I did more yelling, screaming and begging at my computer than I ever had before. Premiere crashed constantly. The final product took something like eight hours to render. I watched it and then wept to my betas that I'd just spent four weeks trying to make my vid the color of POO and what the fuck had I been thinking?

Girl Anachronism. No clipping. Straight import of movie into timeline. 37 seconds vidded in ten hours. Got dizzy. Went to the bathroom and nearly threw up. Leaned against the wall of the toilet stall until the nausea went away. Came back and vidded ten more seconds before going to bed at six thirty in the morning. Got back up at nine thirty to go to a vid party at [ profile] falzalot's house. It was really, really fuschia. No, not red. FUSCHIA. Totally forgot that it was spelled with a "c" and misspelled it three times in subsequent bitchy lj post. Figured I could blame the typos on extreme sleep deprivation, or nearly collapsing in the bathroom, or maybe even the nausea.

I want to be in that place where my vids break me. Where I go to bed muttering to myself like a crazy person that I can't do this only to crawl back out to my computer, fumble my hands over the keys and mouse and create something so beautiful I didn't even know it was in me until it fell out of my soul cavity like bubbleyum from a piƱata. Because the vidder in me is a bleeding masochist and if it's not wounding me, I'm not getting off.

I haven't gotten off in HALF A YEAR.

For the love of GOD,let me FINISH CLIPPING ALREADY.


lierdumoa: (Default)

June 2012

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