The Nicolas Cage Speed-Dating Mixer

"Don't tell me to change the title.  Unless you want to die."

At the tiny college the youngest now attends, an unassuming location surrounded by freeways and movie studios, as opposed to redwood trees and Santa Cruzans in Birkenstocks, his fellow film students harshly critique and rank each other on their newbie attempts at filmmaking. He takes it all in stride, but then, he's more evolved than the SJG.  "Oh, eff them!" I say, weekly.  Or maybe hubby says that.  Or the eldest.  We all agree that peer-rankings at this delicate infant stage are redonkulous, more popularity contest than constructive.  Maybe it's meant to spur the newbies on to do better next time.  Maybe it's meant to introduce them to a nice big public shaming, which is what Hollywood is all about, anyway.  Either way, I certainly admire his fortitude.  He's not taking any of it too seriously.  The other day, he shared the script for the three-minute short he's filming today in our backyard: "The Nicolas Cage Speed-Dating Mixer."  This one stars my brother John, and of course, the SJG makes an appearance as hostess of Mr. Cage's matchmaking efforts. The main note from his peers:  "Change the title."  "Oh, eff that, it's funny," I said.  "They didn't think so." "Did they like the script?" "Yeah, I think so, but I don't give an eff what they think," he said. That's my boy. And that's the right attitude for Hollywood.