Blue Whistles are for Little Orange Men with Very Red Blood

I've done it. I've finally figured out what this lil' BLOGE will be about. You might wonder (at least while you're reading this sentence) what conclusions I've reached. Well I'm not telling. You can now read about it in the description section of my BLOGE.

This is what I've been telling people lately (warning: change of subject has occurred): The film program is obnoxious because not only do you have to apply to get into it, you also have to apply to get into the classes you need. Not want, need.

So, essentially, this is how it ends up working out. You apply to get into the college (in this case, BYU). Then, once in the college, you apply to gain access to your particular field of interest (in this case, film). Then, once in the program--into which, by the way, I was only admitted upon my second application--you are required to apply to the classes you have been told you must take to graduate.

I've got this graduation plan, see, that my academic adviser helped me create, which very specifically (and somewhat severely) lists which classes you must take on your chosen track and when. Currently, I'm one semester behind for my next two most important classes, and I've been kind of admitted into them for this coming semester. I'm an alternate. This means that not only have I not been given the assurance that I will be able to take these classes, I've also been denied the luxury of certainty that I will not be able to take these classes. Their advice? Try to arrange a backup schedule just in case you're not admitted. A backup schedule. I'm trying to remind myself why I thought I didn't have time for a minor. At this rate, I'll graduate in 2011, and I'm already, technically, a senior. But, SSHHH. Don't tell anyone. I'm still going around calling myself a junior, like I did last year, and part of the year before. And like I will continue to do for the next two years. No one likes an eternal senior.

I need to put in a word for Mission: Impossible. It's old news (we're now dealing with the measurement of decades, but who's counting), but this is a great movie. For anyone that doesn't like Tom Cruise, I understand you. He's an insufferable person, and Katie Holmes is a foolish little girl for stepping into his demented life. Their poor daughter. BUT, you will go see his movies. People say they don't like Tom Cruise, but theirs will likely be one of the tickets that catapults his films into the $100 million range the first weekend at the box office. Don't hate, people, the guy is a serious, talented actor.

Back to MI. If you haven't seen it, you're over ten years late, but it's not too late, and it never will be. This will be a classic even twenty years from now. So see it. Next time you're at Blockbuster with no clue what you want to see, grab this one first. Then, the following Saturday night (admit it, there's no shame), pick up the third installment--the one that emerged a couple of years ago--because it might be even better than the first. Yes, skip the second. Don't even think about it. Just pretend it's not there, like the 19th floor at Wayside School.

If you have seen the second...listen, I know. I'm sorry. We're both hurting, and we're in the same boat here. I was forced to go see the third movie by a couple of my friends. But at the time, I didn't know who J.J. Abrams was. And I can personally guarantee that John Woo, bless his cinematically adulterous little heart, had absolutely nothing to do with the last film. He came, he devastated M:I 2, and then he left. And then Abrams came and gave us art. Thanks J.J. Now hurry up and see this movie so you can join in my gratitude. The man deserves some respect.

Hoo-RAH for the longest post yet. (The next will be shorter. Maybe.)