Gaybot

Woke up at 7:30 AM today, again, so that by the time me and all of my roommates were done showering and stuff we could go down and get breakfast, which runs from 8:30-9:30. This turned out to be a mild terrible mistake, since we finished eating at 9, and class didn't start until 10, but food runs out quickly so the options are either:

A) Don't eat

or

B) Wake up way too fucking early, eat, then wait around for an hour.

Sadly enough, I'm probably going to keep up with Option B.

Class actually happened today, on time. Our professor is really cool-- His name is Jim Kouf, he wrote a bunch of movies under more than one pseudonym, including Rush Hour and National Treasure. A funny anecdote he told us about the writing of National Treasure was that an executive at Disney came to him and said, essentially: "Treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence. Go!" and the movie evolved from there. 

The class originally was meant to be structured like a TV writer's room, where each person is "Show Runner" of a series, and also a joint writer on a series, but he said the structure is a bit looser this year, where we concentrate on anything we want. So, my options, as they seem right now, are to work in the class polishing my feature (a sort of raunchy sex comedy that takes place at a Bar Mitzvah), or develop some TV show ideas I have (a guy find out he has an evil twin; chaos ensues / a high-powered executive is fired from his job at an HBO-like network, and has to take a job producing very low-brow reality shows like "Bro-Choice," where adopted children can decide to abort or keep the new, brewing biological fetus in their adoptive mother's womb). I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet.

Another thing we're doing in the class is, as a team, writing several five-or-so page genre scripts for the acting students here to perform. One of the genres is horror, and it looks like me and Mike are going to team up and tackle that one, based on our roommate Tex. Mike made a joke the other day about how Tex is a serial killer, and since then, Tex has only acted like a serial; calling Michael just to say "I can see you," and caressing a corkscrew gently while whispering to himself "This is nice." We think we're going to plot out a horror short about two roommates, one convinced their third roommate is a serial killer, the other convinced he's not, and then, obviously, horror ensues when he is (this should also be funny). This'll be great, too, because Tex can act it out, since he's in the acting program. The other idea that I really like, but I don't know if I'll be able to write two of them, is a sci fi idea where a robot is trying to "come out of the closet" to his friend about his robot-ness (my teacher calls this idea Gaybot). That one should be fun, too.

After all of that, we got lunch, then took a long-ass nap. As you can imagine, the long-ass nap was wonderful.