Yvette's Inner Geek Blog

There may be everyday stories, but I’ve struggled to find a bloggable story every day.

I’ve been disappointed with the number of “cop-out posts” I’ve used in order to fulfill my 365 challenge. I suppose that I was hoping for something somewhat meaningful, or at least mildly amusing, to come out of my brain every day. Friday night I started to write an entry but got tired and disinterested in what I was writing. Finally, after 2am, I shared a link in a post that was not much longer than a tweet. I forgot to pre-date it to Friday at 11:59pm, per my “I’m still awake so it still counts for the previous day” guideline*.

Instead of fixing it on Saturday, I simply didn’t blog at all. I slept in and kept myself busy all day—either subconsciously procrastinating or just plain not thinking about my blog. Then, well after midnight and after my computer was shut down, I remembered my blog while I was brushing my teeth with my eyes closed. Screw it, I thought. I just want to go to bed. And I did.

So, there it was. My first missed blogging day of the year. I’ve wrestled all day with what to do. Fix the dates and pretend it never happened? Post another boring entry about this challenge and whine about my failure? Delete the entire blog and change my name and move to Costa Rica?

Eh, as tempting as Costa Rica sounded… here I am, blog and name intact. No dates have been changed to save face. And hopefully I’m not whining.

I blogged for 43 days straight and I’m proud of myself for that. Rather than throw in the towel (I always have a towel with me, don’t you?) at this point as I normally would (and have), I’m picking myself back up and gunning for the next 321 days. I still have a chance of 99.7% success for my 365 challenge. Go optimism!

*which I’m totally invoking for this post

I can’t believe I forgot to mention the coolest thing about my last 2010 Sundance volunteer day! I twittered on Saturday that Karen Allen had just walked out of the Screening Room. I didn’t get a great look at her, but figured that would be the closest I would ever come to her. NOT TRUE!

Sunday morning, Karen Allen was in the lobby again. Yes, Marion from the Indiana Jones movies was a few feet away from me. She and a (her?) casting agent didn’t have a ticket to see The Extra Man, so they needed to buy them from me (well, technically from the box office). I didn’t let her buy one, though. Because I volunteered a bunch for the Sundance Institute over the summer, I had been given a few guest vouchers that could be exchanged for waitlist tickets… so I refused the $20 she held out to me and told her that I would like to buy her ticket for her. As a volunteer, I’m expected to control my fangirl-gushings, so I didn’t tell her how happy I was to meet her or she was in some of my favorite movies as a kid—the Indiana Jones trilogy, of course, but also Scrooged.

I handed her the voucher from my badge pcket, which I then needed to take back (LIKE A BIG IDIOT) so I could give her the ticket that would actually get her into the theater. She was somewhat quiet, but smiled and said thank you. She looked exactly like she did in the fourth Indiana Jones movie (even though I’m still trying to forget that ever happened). I wish that I had been able to chat with her a little, but the lobby was busy and she was shuffled into the theater as soon as she got her ticket. I saw her again in the crowd on her way out. I regret not asking for a photo with her.

And finally, I don’t know what Robert Redford has against me—or who is conspiring to keep him away from me. He attended a screening at the resort on the first Saturday night and in unprecedented fashion, was there early and even stood to ask a question in the Q&A afterward. Where was I? Park City. He came by the second Saturday night shortly after I’d gone home. He stopped by the Sundance Screening room while I was there on Sunday—but I was inside the theater and nobody came to get me. I mean, really. There was also a near-miss this past summer. I’m sick of hearing other people’s “Bob” stories! I want my own!

I’ve been helping out with Sundance Institute functions at the resort enough this year to think that my chances of actually seeing him—let alone meeting him—are pretty good. But it seems as though, in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern metaphor, my Robert Redford coin keeps landing on heads when I’m betting on tails.

I could also pull in a Hitchhiker’s Guide reference while I’m at it.

Life, as many people have spotted, is, of course, terribly unfair. For instance, the first time the Heart of Gold ever crossed the galaxy the massive improbability field it generated caused two-hundred-and-thirty-nine thousand lightly-fried eggs to materialise in a large, wobbly heap on the famine-struck land of Poghril in the Pansel system. The whole Poghril tribe had just died out from famine, except for one man who died of cholesterol-poisoning some weeks later.

Terribly unfair. Yeah.

This is a graphite drawing of my bobblehead Marvin from the movie Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I hadn’t quite learned about proper shading, so I stopped before adding too much shading.