http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hb2YSAVHmIE

HEY GUYS. ASK ME THINGS.

http://www.formspring.me/Sebhar

Well hai, people!

In case I haven't pimped this enough, I'm writing a Citizen Kane fanfiction. It's over at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5478396/1/On_My_Own_Terms and... yes. That's about it. You should check out my friend Ashley's current fic, too: Sirius Black and a character of her own invention. http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4540249/1/Suddenly_I_See

Let's see, what else. OH. Here, have some deviations:
http://sebhar.deviantart.com/art/Drinking-by-Candlelight-147749528
http://sebhar.deviantart.com/art/O-Christmas-Tree-147748971
http://sebhar.deviantart.com/art/Iowa-City-South-Johnson-147748325
http://sebhar.deviantart.com/art/The-Cupboard-Under-the-Stairs-147748004
http://sebhar.deviantart.com/art/Sunrise-Finals-Week-147747626
http://sebhar.deviantart.com/art/Clinton-St-147746952

I love comments, feedback, and, of course, faves... but... so it goes.

We're iced in here. Yay midwestern US. Hope you have a happy Christmas, and good other holidays, too!

Quotes from Robert Bresson's book Notes on the Cinematographer. Applicable to both life and filmmaking.

“Respect man’s nature without wishing it more palpable than it is.” – p. 19

“My movie is born first in my head, dies on paper; is resuscitated by the living persons and real objects I use, which are killed on film but, placed in a certain order and projected onto a screen, come to life again…” – p. 23

“Cinematography, a military art. Prepare a film like a battle.” – p. 28

“A whole made of good images can be detestable.” – p. 28

“The mixture of true and false yields falsity.” – p. 29

“Be sure of having used to the full all that is communicated by immobility and silence.” – p. 31

“Nine-tenths of our movements obey habit and automatism. It is anti-nature to subordinate them to will and thought.” – p. 32

“Where not everything is present, but each word, each look, each movement has things underlying.” – p. 33

“Let it be the intimate union of the images that charges them with emotion.” – p. 34

“Let it be the feelings that bring about the events. Not the other way.” – p. 38

“Someone who can work with the minimum can work with the most. One who can work with the most cannot, inevitably, with the minimum.” – p. 42

“Neither the director nor the scenario-writer. Forget you are making a film.” – p. 42

“Music takes up all the room and gives no increased value to the image to which it is added.” – p. 48

“Dismantle and put together till one gets intensity.” – p. 55

“What is for the eye must not duplicate what is for the ear.” – p. 61

“When a sound can replace an image, cut the image or neutralize it. The ear goes more towards the within, the eye towards the outer.” – p. 61

“Everything escapes and disperses. Continually bring it all back to one.” – p. 64

“To your models [actors]: ‘One must not act either somebody else or oneself. One must not act anybody.’” – p. 67

“Models. What they lose in apparent prominence during the shooting, they gain in depth and in truth on the screen. It is the flattest and dullest parts that in the end have the most life.” – p. 75

“Corot: ‘One must not seek, one must wait.’” – p. 76

“The real, when it has reached the mind, is already not real anymore. Our too thoughtful, too intelligent eye. Two sorts of real: (1) The crude real recorded as it is by the camera; (2) what we call real and see deformed by our memory and some wrong reckonings. Problem. To make what you see be seen, through the intermediary of a machine that does not see it as you see it. And to make what you understand be understood, through the intermediary of a machine that does not understand it as you do.” – pp. 78-79

“Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.” – p. 82

“The true is inimitable, the false untransformable.” – p. 83

“Music. It isolates your film from the life of your film… It is a powerful modifier and even destroyer of the real, like alcohol or dope.” – p. 86

“Neither beautify nor uglify. Do not denature.” – p. 88

“It is in its pure form that an art hits hard.” – p. 88

“To move people not with images likely to move us, but with relations of images that render them both alive and moving.” – p. 89

“Not beautiful photography, not beautiful images, but necessary images and photography.” – p. 92

“One should not use the camera as if it were a broom.” – p. 99

“It is not a matter of acting ‘simple’ or acting ‘inward’ but of not acting at all.” – p. 99

“Your public is not the public for books, stage shows, exhibitions or concerts. Taste in literature, in theatre, in painting or in music is not what you have to satisfy.” – p. 101

“The crude real will not by itself yield truth.” – p. 106

“The most ordinary word, when put into place, suddenly acquires brilliance.” – p. 112

“What I reject as too simple is the thing that is important and that one must dig into. Stupid mistrust of simple things.” – p. 118

“The future of cinematography belongs to a new race of young solitaries who will shoot films by putting their last penny into it and not let themselves be taken in by the material routines of the trade.” – p. 121

“Laugh at a bad reputation. Fear a good one that you could not sustain.” – p. 122

“Be precise in the form, not always in the substance (if you can).” – p. 129

“Prefer what intuition whispers in your ear to what you have done and redone ten times in your head.” – p. 130

“No (or hardly any) harsh criticism or praise that is not based on some misunderstanding.” – p. 133

“Silence is necessary to music but is not part of music. Music leans on it.” – p. 136

“Let nothing be changed and all be different.” – p. 137

So I have these two friends. The first friend and I have a tendency, whenever we get together, to good-naturedly insult one another. The second friend and I have extremely opposite political viewpoints, and love debating. (Though, come on, seriously. How can you be pro-the death penalty and anti-a woman's right to choose whether or not to have a baby? Pro-death and "pro-life" aren't really compatible, are they?) Ahem ANYWAY. We all hung out last night. It involved cupcakes, fried chicken, tiger cubs, baby monkeys, the tv remote, Saturday Night Live, the second friend falling over, Ace of Cakes, a heated argument/ribbing about the evils of PBR, the present perfect and Spanish past participles, and other things.

I love my life.

I would just like to point out that three people said yesterday - Saturday - that I was awesome.

The first was the kid in front of me at the football game. We made a sweet pass and it looked like our guy was headed for the endzone but ALAS he tripped. I said to my friend Sara, who was next to me, that it was like having the best sex ever for two seconds. The guy in front of us turned around and said that was the best metaphor he'd ever heard - which I'll take as a compliment despite the fact that it was actually a simile.

Later in the game I yelled at our defense (which sucked last night) to break the opposing quarterback's kneecaps. The guy on the other side of Sara high-fived me and called me ruthless.

Later, at Carrie's, her boyfriend's brother (Jim) and one of her housemates (Zach) were discussing ESPN's coverage of Kirk Ferentz and how they ignore the team's ability and only talk about his coaching prowess. I cut in with something about how the man himself never talks about his skills, only the skills of his players, in interviews. They both agreed and Jim said I was cool. A while after that, there was a good-looking college football player on TV. I said he was cute, Jim said he was injured, and I said with a straight face, "I don't care. Does his dick still work?" This greatly amused the assembled company.

So there, non-believers. I am cool...?

This week is decidedly less crazy than the last.

Yesterday I had a pretty big sexual-identity crisis. It's a tough world when you're not straight or gay or somewhere on a rigidly-defined spectrum in between.

Then I had a dream where I was attacked by zombie-esque things that were really more like something out of the Evil Dead. The dream played like a movie. I dream in color. Lots of red.

Today's just one class. No Spanish until Wednesday, huzzah! I have Spanish homework, though, plus a 4-5 page paper (not too bad) and a screenplay draft (actually rather fun).

Thursday after class, Dad's coming to pick me up. Friday I (FINALLY!!!!!!11!!!) get an allergy shot (it's been like six weeks and "miserable" does not even begin to adequately describe my condition) and then head to Wisconsin with the Mom, the Sister, and one of Mom's students. Crrrrz.

So, yeah, a lot less stress this week.

Last night I read one of my sister's favorite fanfictions. So we'll have that to talk about this weekend.

Also, the book "Syren" by Angie Sage comes out tomorrow - YAY! It's the newest book in the Septimus Heap series, and therefore is made of win.

...um... yeah.

CATCHING FIRE! Sweet book. Srsly. Check it out. I got a mockingjay pin. I love mommy. :]

The whole fam's coming down this weekend for the football game. I should probably vacuum.

Got a really rough draft of a screenplay churned out last night. Maybe someday I'll share it with you. Probably not though, since I'll probably end up producing it.

Next week will be hellish. Gotta have a second screenplay draft for Monday, written Spanish test on Tuesday, Spanish presentation Wednesday, Spanish oral test on either Thursday or Friday, then a paper due for Film Authors the following Monday. OMGOMGOMGASDFASDFASDFASDF.

I have a stress-sperm. It's like a stress ball, only sperm-shaped. (I also have a carrot-shaped one now.)

I've spent the last several days watching Firefly for the first time, on Hulu. Check it out if you haven't. It's super fun tiem.

Um... what else? Let's see...

OH! I'm gonna see Victor Wooten tomorrow night. How stoked am I? THIS STOKED.

Ack, I have class at 7. Thanks for reading!

I first met Brigette when I was at band camp in high school. My friend Molly and I climbed in a minivan with her two sisters, her mom, and her aunt. We six ladies each packed a week’s worth of luggage. Nutty stuff. Molly’s mom dropped us off at the International Music Camp at Peace Gardens (North Dakota/Manitoba), and there we were, Molly with her trumpet and me with my trombone, for a week of extensive band-geekiness and culture shock (weirdly; Canadians are SO AWESOME).

Brigette had traveled to IMC with her French horn from a little town in North Dakota. While I met lots of people at band camp, Brigette has always stayed in touch with me, and been there for me when I needed her. She’s a few years older than me, but we’ve always been on the same page; there are things I’m comfortable discussing with Brigette, who I knew for a few days and have only really met once in my life, that I don’t really feel right talking about with anyone else. She is so clever, creative and unique. She reminds me of me in many ways – I get the vibe from her that she, like me, is comfortable being herself, she’s just not entirely sure who she is yet.

So that’s the backstory. The frontstory is that today I checked my mail and found a package slip. When I picked my package up from the front desk, I saw that it was from Brigette. I opened it up, and it smelled GOOOOOD. Packed in among some plastic shopping bags used as padding, I found a cozy blanket, a composition notebook with a handmade collage cover, a package of ramen, and a Dig Dug musical greeting card. In with the card was a letter.

This package embodies Brigette, for me. It smells like her. It came with a hug in the form of a blanket. She’s nourishing me with food, expressing her creativity with the collage. It’s incredibly generous – a care package from one college student to another is costly in terms of content, time investment, and shipping. The card made me laugh; the letter is so full of beautiful things, both happy and sad, that it brings tears to my eyes.

I find myself wishing there were more people in the world like Brigette; however, if there were, it would be more difficult to appreciate her for what she is: a sweet, gorgeous, enchanting person who makes my life sweeter.

Well my life is extremely lifey. I've been busy, primarily with homework, volunteering around town at the art house theater, at the natural history museum, and the rape victim advocacy center. But mostly homework.

Been listenin' to plenty of Modest Mouse. I recommend it.

Neil Diamond - "Dry Your Eyes" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bey2aNhW_c

Dry your eyes and take your song out, it's a newborn afternoon.
And if you can't recall the singer you can still recall the tune.
Dry your eyes and play it slowly like you're marching off to war;
sing it like you know he'd want it, like we sang it once before.
And from the center of the circle to the midst of the waiting crowd,
if it ever be forgotten sing it long and sing it loud and come dry your eyes.

And he taught us more about giving than we ever cared to know,
but we came to find the secret and we never let it go.
And it was more than being holy and it was less than being free,
and if you can't recall the reason can you hear the people sing.
Right through the lightning and the thunder to the dark side of the moon,
to that distant falling angel that descended much too soon
and come dry your eyes.

Come dry your eyes.

Lately I've been a little worried that I'm a hipster; when people say the word, they rarely define it, but it is often used to describe a person or group which I have something in common with [read: cinema major]. So, just to be sure, I consulted the Most Accurate Source Evar, urbandictionary.com . Here's what they had to say: [my notes in brackets]

Listens to bands that you have never heard of. [Yes.]
Has hairstyle that can only be described as "complicated." (Most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it.) [Ew, no. My boyfriend has a more complicated hair style than I do, and if you've seen my boyfriend, you know his hair style is not complicated AT ALL.]
Probably tattooed. [Not.]
Maybe gay. [Not.]
Definitely cooler than you. [Clearly.]
Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times. [Not even sure what those are.]
Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. [...ew. If anyone ever sees me drinking Pabst, sedate me and get me into a mental hospital.]
Complains. [Hellz yeah.]
Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. [Yes to both.]
Probably living off parents money - and spends a great deal of it to look like they don't have any. [Partly. It's about even actually, my money and theirs. And I really don't spend much at all; what I do spend is mine.]
Has friends and/or self cut hair. [no.longer.here]
Dyes it frequently (black, white-blonde, etc. and until scalp bleeds). [Ouch no.]
Has a closet full of clothing but usually wears same three things OVER AND OVER (most likely very tight black pants, scarf, and ironic tee-shirt). [Yes, but not the very tight black pants. Occasionally the scarf, and my t-shirts are only occasionally ironic.]
Chips off nail polish artfully after $50 manicure. [Do chip nail polish. Do not pay to have them painted.]
Sleeps with everyone and talks about it at great volume in crowded coffee shops. [Too poor for coffee shops. Am not slut.]
Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Kamel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine. [No, sweetie. No coffee, no cigarettes, no coke. ...unless you count Diet.]
Claims to be in a band. [Not currently.]
Rehearsals consist of choosing outfits for next show and drinking PBR. [Ew PBR.]
Always on the list. [Uncertain what this means.]
Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies. [...cinema.]
Name-drops. [Not guilty.]
May go by "Penny Lane," "Eleanor Rigby," etc. when drunk. On PBR. Which is usually. [Ew ew. No.]

Final score:
Pro-hipster: 7
Non-hipster: 14

So I'm 1/3 hipster, but I think most people do at least ONE of these things, and probably more.
Official conclusion: I am not a hipster.

I watch myself through external eyes, watch the shots get easier and easier to take, watch the hurt buried deeper and deeper. Take a hit. Take another. Get drunk, get high. Fuck. Rinse. Repeat. And the pain. The pain remains.

I hate that he still hurts me. He cut me out of his life - he's selfish, and I know I know I know I don't want to be there - but he left a scar. Walking a certain block, hearing his name, trying to make small talk with the girl he was fucking before me. Fuck. Fuck. It hurts.

Being with his friend, my boyfriend... that can hurt sometimes. The reminders are constantly there. They shouldn't hurt, but that insecure asshole, he made them hurt. Fuck him, you know?

But it still hurts. Oh god it hurts.

Hallo, lads and lasses.

Spanish quiz in two hours!

I'll be home tonight... well, maybe I'll be in Dubuque. Unexciting, except I'll get to see my uncle who lives in California, so that could be cool.

But, um, yes. Probably no updates until tomorrow afternoon or evening. So there.

Life: nuts, stressful, should hopefully be fun.
I got pretend glasses and I hate midterms.
Ack, meeting with adviser.

All my thoughts and prayers go out to [dreamseeker's child] and her family. I love them all and will miss her father dearly.

Tonight I'm recording sound for my film class. Wish me luck. :/

If you haven't read my blog lately... or at all... you should... self-spam self-spam self-spam!
http://talkingstove.blogspot.com/

Sorted out my relationship issues, I think. I rate a 9.5 on a scale I don't understand. We'll disregard that Man #2 looked absolutely adorable Saturday night, and is always there for me when Man #1 is being ridiculous.
...
Yeah. We'll just disregard that.
OH! And new blog. http://talkingstove.blogspot.com
kthx

Thinking of a big-ass house makeover.
Thinking said makeover might just be a subconscious procrastination attempt.
Beware, beware.
Be a very wary bear.

Alright... so...
+ New House layout! I think it flows better this way... comments and suggestions welcome.
+ New Seb's Song of the Week! I worked a little bit this morning on making an archive. I'm gonna update this weekly. Call it a new school year resolution. :P
+ Sebhar's Forum needs some pretty serious updating. I'll probably be on that later this week.
+ In nine days, I'll be back in IC where I oughtta be! I prefer to think of it as eight nights, because that seems like a smaller chunk of time, somehow. ...that's why my mood is the way it is.