Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of Lizzie McGuire. So stop calling me!
To: farrisa@nyu.film.net
From: morrisi@nyu.magazinedesign.net
Date: 3-16-16 11:45 pm
Subj: Director David Gordon
Arwen,
Am I the only one that thinks Mr. Gordon is a nutcase? I mean, granted, he is your teacher, and yes, he DID direct a simply wonderful film (how many director's first -and in his case, ONLY- film wins 3 different awards for best picture? I mean, really) but the guy is an obvious loon. Take today for example.
It's Friday, right, and I have my sister's wedding in exactly 24 hours, so I am practically running to my car with Frank walking swiftly beside me. I am attempting to finish a story I began telling him in our last class about my mother's assistant. Is he listening? No. But I am at a point of self-awareness that I realize that it really doesn't matter.
"So," I told my boyfriend, "Lizzie walks into the boardroom, wearing these pink fuzzy slippers. I guess she forgot to change her shoes."
At that moment, from BEHIND a TREE appeared Mr. Gordon, with his trademark camera in his hand. I'm choosing to ignore how this sounds as if he's stalking me or something. As paranoid as I may be, even I know that that cannot be fact.
"Isabelle," he began. I guess he got my name from you and I being best friends. I mean, you're his student, not me.
I stared up at him expectantly because, really, I did have somewhere to be.
"Did you say Lizzie?"
Apparently pleased with the interruption, Frank said, "I'm going to run home and change. I'll meet you at your house in an hour and we'll head to the hotel for the rehearsal dinner."
I nodded and he kissed my cheek, then I returned my attention to the teacher. "Yes, sir," I replied. "She's my mom's assistant."
"I was just… I mean, I guess I was just hoping that it might be someone from my past, this Lizzie. Is it Lizzie… Craft?" Arwen, he positively SPIT out this last name, yet he stared down at me hopefully.
"Sorry Mr. G," I answered, "I don't know her last name off the top of my head, but I can be fairly certain that's not it."
I really was. Sorry, I mean. He may be insane, but the way his face fell, you'd have guessed I'd told him they weren't going to be showing the Academy Awards this year or something.
He smiled sadly. "I'm sure there's more than one Elizabeth in the world that shortens her name to Lizzie."
"I'll check with my mom about the name, and let you know if it IS Craft," I added.
"Thanks." He sort of grinned, then. "And if you would, please remind Arwen about the projects that are due on Monday. She has a tendency to forget her homework."
So I'm reminding you. Not that I think you actually "forget" these assignments, though.
So, my friend, am I overanalyzing, or is the man losing it? I feel the need to point out, however, that he appeared from behind a TREE!
Well, the wedding is tomorrow afternoon, so I think I'm going to head off to sleep. Besides, my mom keeps coming in here, the guest room at my sister's, pestering me with comments such as, "You know, dear, staring at the computer so long can make your eyes have dark circles."
Until Monday,
Isabelle
P.S. I wasn't wrong about the name. It's McGuire. Lizzie McGuire.
To: morrisi@nyu.magazinedesign.net
From: farrisa@nyu.film.net
Date: 3-17-16 7:07 pm
Subj: Re: Director David Gordon
Isabelle,
Sorry, dear, but you're on your own. I cannot in all confidence say that we need to report Mr. Gordon to the school as being unstable. Okay, so there has been some evidence of less than human-like behavior. For example, the first day of classes.
He was taking roll, and paused when he came to my name.
"Arwen Farris?"
I raised my hand in admittance to being that girl and he grinned. "Arwen, like from the Lord of the Rings?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's a wonderful trilogy. I must have read it 60 times when I was younger."
Okay, now I am as interested in Lord of the Rings as the next gal. I even read it once, in an attempt to figure out what it was about this character that my parents liked so much that they named me after her. (An eleven princess. Go figure.) But 60 times?!?! Did the man not have a life?
Despite his disinterest in the outside world as a youth, he's still the best teacher ever. He's young, and he has a kindness that is rarely found in teachers these days. I mean, the guy makes you WANT to do your homework. He expects you to, and when you don't, he is so surprised and so disappointed, that his face actually FALLS. I admire that kind of naivety in a person.
And in case you are wondering, I DO forget my homework, thank you very much.
In other news we might should consider committing ME.
The subject of the aforementioned project is to take someone you know and make a video about them. Just follow them around for a day. So, you know, it wasn't exactly a biggie that I chose to do this project last minute. (Chose, forgot, whatever….)
So I called Jake. He didn't mind-in fact, he was all about it, a large relief for me. So, gathering my gear (well, okay, camera) I headed over to his house and knocked.
"Hey, Arwen, come on in." He stepped aside to allow me entry, and that was when I saw her. Julia. The irritating, know-it-all redhead with the really earsplitting laugh. You know. His OTHER friend.
She was sitting on the couch, and smiled up at me as I approached. "Hi…Arwen… is it?"
I grinted my teeth and forced a smile in return. "That's right. And Julia."
"Yup."
Jake interrupted. "So, you just start filming?"
And that I did. I followed around my best guy friend, camera held tightly in my right hand, water in my left, fighting back this urge to choke stupid Julia within an inch of her life every time she reached over and tickled him.
I pushed back my feelings for him long ago, back in high school. So why is something that feels suspiciously like jealous tugging at my heart?
And why can't I forget the way his bright blue eyes held mine for just a beat when he opened the door.
Find an asylum. I'll sign myself in.
Until Then,
Arwen
To: farrisa@nyu.film.net
From: morrisi@nyu.magazinedesign.net
Date: 3-16-16 11:45 pm
Subj: Director David Gordon
Arwen,
Am I the only one that thinks Mr. Gordon is a nutcase? I mean, granted, he is your teacher, and yes, he DID direct a simply wonderful film (how many director's first -and in his case, ONLY- film wins 3 different awards for best picture? I mean, really) but the guy is an obvious loon. Take today for example.
It's Friday, right, and I have my sister's wedding in exactly 24 hours, so I am practically running to my car with Frank walking swiftly beside me. I am attempting to finish a story I began telling him in our last class about my mother's assistant. Is he listening? No. But I am at a point of self-awareness that I realize that it really doesn't matter.
"So," I told my boyfriend, "Lizzie walks into the boardroom, wearing these pink fuzzy slippers. I guess she forgot to change her shoes."
At that moment, from BEHIND a TREE appeared Mr. Gordon, with his trademark camera in his hand. I'm choosing to ignore how this sounds as if he's stalking me or something. As paranoid as I may be, even I know that that cannot be fact.
"Isabelle," he began. I guess he got my name from you and I being best friends. I mean, you're his student, not me.
I stared up at him expectantly because, really, I did have somewhere to be.
"Did you say Lizzie?"
Apparently pleased with the interruption, Frank said, "I'm going to run home and change. I'll meet you at your house in an hour and we'll head to the hotel for the rehearsal dinner."
I nodded and he kissed my cheek, then I returned my attention to the teacher. "Yes, sir," I replied. "She's my mom's assistant."
"I was just… I mean, I guess I was just hoping that it might be someone from my past, this Lizzie. Is it Lizzie… Craft?" Arwen, he positively SPIT out this last name, yet he stared down at me hopefully.
"Sorry Mr. G," I answered, "I don't know her last name off the top of my head, but I can be fairly certain that's not it."
I really was. Sorry, I mean. He may be insane, but the way his face fell, you'd have guessed I'd told him they weren't going to be showing the Academy Awards this year or something.
He smiled sadly. "I'm sure there's more than one Elizabeth in the world that shortens her name to Lizzie."
"I'll check with my mom about the name, and let you know if it IS Craft," I added.
"Thanks." He sort of grinned, then. "And if you would, please remind Arwen about the projects that are due on Monday. She has a tendency to forget her homework."
So I'm reminding you. Not that I think you actually "forget" these assignments, though.
So, my friend, am I overanalyzing, or is the man losing it? I feel the need to point out, however, that he appeared from behind a TREE!
Well, the wedding is tomorrow afternoon, so I think I'm going to head off to sleep. Besides, my mom keeps coming in here, the guest room at my sister's, pestering me with comments such as, "You know, dear, staring at the computer so long can make your eyes have dark circles."
Until Monday,
Isabelle
P.S. I wasn't wrong about the name. It's McGuire. Lizzie McGuire.
To: morrisi@nyu.magazinedesign.net
From: farrisa@nyu.film.net
Date: 3-17-16 7:07 pm
Subj: Re: Director David Gordon
Isabelle,
Sorry, dear, but you're on your own. I cannot in all confidence say that we need to report Mr. Gordon to the school as being unstable. Okay, so there has been some evidence of less than human-like behavior. For example, the first day of classes.
He was taking roll, and paused when he came to my name.
"Arwen Farris?"
I raised my hand in admittance to being that girl and he grinned. "Arwen, like from the Lord of the Rings?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's a wonderful trilogy. I must have read it 60 times when I was younger."
Okay, now I am as interested in Lord of the Rings as the next gal. I even read it once, in an attempt to figure out what it was about this character that my parents liked so much that they named me after her. (An eleven princess. Go figure.) But 60 times?!?! Did the man not have a life?
Despite his disinterest in the outside world as a youth, he's still the best teacher ever. He's young, and he has a kindness that is rarely found in teachers these days. I mean, the guy makes you WANT to do your homework. He expects you to, and when you don't, he is so surprised and so disappointed, that his face actually FALLS. I admire that kind of naivety in a person.
And in case you are wondering, I DO forget my homework, thank you very much.
In other news we might should consider committing ME.
The subject of the aforementioned project is to take someone you know and make a video about them. Just follow them around for a day. So, you know, it wasn't exactly a biggie that I chose to do this project last minute. (Chose, forgot, whatever….)
So I called Jake. He didn't mind-in fact, he was all about it, a large relief for me. So, gathering my gear (well, okay, camera) I headed over to his house and knocked.
"Hey, Arwen, come on in." He stepped aside to allow me entry, and that was when I saw her. Julia. The irritating, know-it-all redhead with the really earsplitting laugh. You know. His OTHER friend.
She was sitting on the couch, and smiled up at me as I approached. "Hi…Arwen… is it?"
I grinted my teeth and forced a smile in return. "That's right. And Julia."
"Yup."
Jake interrupted. "So, you just start filming?"
And that I did. I followed around my best guy friend, camera held tightly in my right hand, water in my left, fighting back this urge to choke stupid Julia within an inch of her life every time she reached over and tickled him.
I pushed back my feelings for him long ago, back in high school. So why is something that feels suspiciously like jealous tugging at my heart?
And why can't I forget the way his bright blue eyes held mine for just a beat when he opened the door.
Find an asylum. I'll sign myself in.
Until Then,
Arwen