Et Cetera

Here is the direct transcription of the pertinent task on my Wunderlist task list:

Blog! Sick, focusing, academia, QD, etc.

In an effort to keep things simple:

Sick

I got sick on the very first day of classes. Felt it coming on, then fought like crazy to keep it from getting bad. A few days later, I was feeling mostly fine, so I tried to jam way more into my days, and ended up getting sick again, but much worse. Took a week to find the end of it, where I found a sinus infection waiting for me. Getting rid of that was a pain, and now I'm...mostly ok. Still teetering, but trying to treat myself right with fear and trembling.

Also, herbal remedies. The next time you find yourself with a sinus infection, try this (apple cider vinegar tea). It works. Several times a day, for several days. It'll clear you out and allow your body to do the heavy lifting of actually getting rid of the infection. Seriously. I did it. It was great.

Being sick, by the way, is horrible. Not that you didn't know that, but I was reminded very forcibly of this most fundamental truth after the year (almost) I spent forgetting it.

Focusing

Back in the Utah, I divided my time between so many and such varied activities that I never really got good at anything. By now, I'm sure it's clear that I came here to focus on writing. I told myself that I needed to pick something, focus on it, and stick with it until I really developed the talent. Easier said than done, just like everything. It turns out that I still want to do all the stuff I was doing, and not doing it feels a little like giving up on life.

Of course, that sentiment is only exacerbated by my failure to write as often and as consistently as I VERY MUCH NEED TO, so that has been, or is becoming, my primary focus, as it were. I must write write write write. More on that later.

Academia

I'm not used to this. I feel like I spent a couple of years being a semi-professional, not getting paid, but doing all kinds of project-oriented things. I was doing things I loved, and things for which I would have been paid had I been out in the real world, but now I'm back in classes. Homework is hard, I'm rediscovering. Going to classes. Following syllabi. Frankly, it sucks. But I've only got a couple more years. They'll go by quick, and then it will be, quite literally, over for good.

QD (or, Quiet Dignity, for the uninitiate)



So proud of these guys for keeping it going after I left. I've been putting out feelers for how to go about setting up a coordinating group here in Boston. If you're a Bostonite, and you're reading this, and you're interested, let me know.

Et Cetera

Life is busy, and it's good. Quality. Full of good work and shining possibilities. But I'll admit I miss my old life pretty desperately sometimes. OK, often. But I brought it on myself by getting so close to so many wonderful people. And here I go again, trying to do the same thing here. I'll never learn.

Well, anyway. Check. Time to move on to my next task.

A Story about Taking Pictures of Married People

I wrote this post over a month ago and forgot to post it. Look at me go. I promise a more current set of thoughts very soon. 

Last week, I had my first experience with wedding photography. It turns out I'm...well, about how I expected to be. Not great. Not terrible. Out of 1,060 pictures, I forced over 200 of them to be useable in some way, so I guess that's something.

I did it for free, because it was for a couple of dear friends, and it was my first time. I figured a practice-run photography gig was a suitable wedding gift. And while I most certainly don't regret doing it for free, I doubt I'll be able to afford the same generosity to anyone else in the future. The event went from 4 to 8pm, approximately, and then sifting though the seemingly endless pictures I had taken, and editing the ones that were salvageable--I think I clocked in another 8 hours. I will never begrudge a photographer his or her fees.

One of the reasons I was so eager to do this, though, was that I knew I'd learn a whole lot, and I was right. For instance, I found myself phobic of closing the aperture; for some stupid reason, I kept it stopped down as far as I could get it--all day long, in blinding sunlight. Instead, to limit the exposure, I throttled the shutter speed between three and eight hundred. If you know anything about cameras, you can go ahead and laugh at me now. Here's the other part: keeping the aperture open decreased my depth of field to the point that I had a devil of a time keeping anything in focus, particularly for a lot of the candid shots I tried to get.

I also ended up underexposing about half of all the shots I got, having failed to adjust appropriately for drastic lighting changes. Listen. Photography is hard, it turns out.

But it's hecka fun. I did learn a ton, and I think my friends will be happy with some of what I give them. Here are some of my favorites:

And Now I'm Here

It's been a long time, I know, and I'm sorry.

Here's what's been up:

I moved to Boston.

Undergoing such a huge move turns out to be psychologically, physically, emotionally, spiritually, and creatively draining. It's sort of like going into survival mode, where all I could really focus on was making it through the whole thing in one piece.

And now I'm here, in one piece. And classes have started, and I'm still a wretched writer, in that I almost never actually sit down and write. That's going to change, though, you'll see. Or, probably you won't see, but you'll hear abou--er, you'll read about it here, when I decide I deserve to let off some brag steam. But no such steam exists at present, so that'll have to wait.

Here's the deal with BU: it's different than BYU. Like, a lot different. I won't say it's better or worse, because I think it's an impossible comparison to qualify. They are different worlds. I guess there is one qualitative thing I can say--different is good. I love these buildings that are hundreds of years old, with dust on the windowsills that I'm willing to bet is older than my grandparents. I love the way everything in this city is crammed together, or was, a hundred years ago, and everyone has to just sort of shoulder past each other to get around.

I love that yesterday, it was so hot and muggy I thought I would drown when I walked outside, and today it's cold and rainy enough to be November in Utah.

I...well, I really hate that I have to furnish my own room in my new (very, very old) apartment, and I have no car to help me do it. But I LOVE that as soon as I step out of my door, I'm in Davis Square in Somerville, which is at least fourteen times cooler than any square in Provo.

I love living here. I'm so glad to be back. Immediately, I want to claim this as my home. I know that I need to put in some time before I get that right, but I'm willing to put that time right in.

So those are my thoughts right now.

And here's my "expert film student" advice for the day: Love where you are, or move.

Weighted is done.

Last Monday, Weighted was officially, entirely, totally, completely completed. As I'm writing this, the DVDs are in the process of being created, and people are being invited to the premiere, which is this Saturday. If you're reading this, you're invited. So go click "Attending" on the event page.

Even though the film was originally scheduled to be completed about two months ago, this is still record timing. I know of no other BYU student capstone being completed, from pre-production to premiere, in so little time. From the time we got funding to this Saturday, this film will have taken about six months. Of course, the early stages of story, writing, and conceptualization were happening months before that, but the actual course of production, the heavy lifting, as it were, was all done over six months. Pretty great. Especially for a bunch of students who were working on a multitude of other projects throughout the entire process.

Here's what I learned: filmmaking is hard.

At the end of the day, the actual film is...well, I'll let you be the judge when you see it. I'll just say that the script was better, as a completed thing, than the film is, which isn't at all surprising, considering our limited experience, time, and budget.

I also discovered that probably the hardest special effect anyone could ever attempt is to make a person fly. My VFX guy (Nick Dixon, everyone...) and I had a conversation about why that is, and I won't go into the dull details, but suffice it to say that there may not be more than one or two movies ever made in the history of the universe that made flying look natural for a human being. And that emphatically includes all the huge-budget Hollywood movies out there that try to pull it off.

This proves both that I and the people who agreed to help me with this film are (or were, at least) incredibly naive, and that we've all got that thing called grit, because while the effects may not astonish anyone, they're also not awful, and by golly they could have been. In fact I saw many versions in which they were.

I could probably talk forever about this movie, and the things I learned, and how I felt and feel about everything, but I won't. Unfortunately, the entirety of experience that goes into making a movie cannot be summed up effectively in any way. So, to end, these words: I'm glad it's over with, and I can't wait to do it again, and soon, by the grace of God.

On Graduating

I walked because my mom demanded it. She's a single mother and I'm her only child, so of course I had to do the cap and gown thing. Here's some stuff that happened:

1. Lots of sun and heat and sweat
2. A long exodus from a distant parking lot to a huge auditorium
3. Re-learning how to walk single-file
4. Astonishingly dull speech-making by people I've never heard of and will likely never hear of again
5. A bemused regard for the teleprompter that fate placed right behind me and to my right
6. Immense gratitude for iPhones (and Sudoku)
7. Admiration for Sarah and her GoPro camera

And that was just the first day. 

Joel Ackerman, bless him eternally, provided much needed comic relief, complete with Harry Potter glasses and a glittery wand. Thanks to him, I now know the words to the graduation song/music:

I'm telling you white boy

Stay away from me

(repeated ad infinitum)

The next morning involved waking up at 6am to be at the Harris Fine Arts Center (HFAC) for convocation (I discovered that this word, literally translated, means "assembly"), which was much less wearying than commencement, since instead of football stories by Alumni Association cronies, we got stories from students about more relatable achievements and experiences. I've long suspected that "fine arts" students are more interesting, on average, than pretty much any other kind of student, and our college's convocation was further proof of that notion. 

And then I walked across a stage, got handed a fake diploma, hugged Amy Jensen (whose presence was extremely welcome), got my picture taken, and sat back in my seat until it was over and they released all of us into the wild. 

What lasts is the dismal feeling of closure. I know, closure is supposed to feel good. Not getting it is supposed to be that unsurvivable psychological condition that causes depression. But closure isn't always  pleasant. I wanted to avoid thinking about the fact that I was finished at BYU, and I was doing a pretty good job of it until they forced me to don cheap, scratchy fabric, put a board on my head, and heard me into a huge colosseum with hundreds of other students dressed in like manner. 

The most surreal component was the constant stream of always-surprising congratulations from family and friends. As if the entire exercise was actually some kind of victory. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have finished my degree, and I've loved--no adored the vast majority of my time at BYU, but the arbitrary pomp and circumstance of graduation ceremonies...where's the victory there? Most of my contemporaries didn't walk, evidenced by the vanishingly small number of us in actual attendance. So what was the point?

I'm sorry. I know what's happening here. I'm a little broken up about leaving what has become my home, dear to me in a way and to a degree that I cannot adequately describe. Graduation was a long and forceful reminder of it, and now I'm venting. It's hard, this leaving business. I don't remember signing up for it, though I know I did in the very act of coming here in the first place. But this time, this ending event, was always so far off. It was far off right up until the day it happened, and I found myself saying, "Wait a minute," with a frown, "I'm not comfortable with this." And then graduation had its way with me, and now I just feel...

Well, homesick.

So Little, So Late...

I graduated today. More on that next week.

Also, finished Weighted today. As in, the film is completely complete. We'll be burning a couple of DVDs and Blu-rays tomorrow.

Also, I'm so sorry about the shabby state of this blog lately. It's been over two weeks since I've posted. I realize that. It shames me. Which is why I'm here, right now, putting some words together to break the streak of non-posting.

Really, more next week. I have all kinds of things to say, but no time, right now, to say them.

Film School and Some Slowing

First, here's what was owed to you on Monday, but I failed to deliver:

Is film school important? 

There were a bunch of really great responses, several of which didn't end up in the comments, but emerged in private conversations over the next few days after I posted that question. 

Most people seem to agree about film school's potential usefulness. The predominating sentiment was: maybe you don't need it, but it certainly can't hurt, and there are a whole lot of advantages. 

I find myself in reasonable accord, with some qualifiers. Film school is, or at least should be if it's worth anything, a close prototype of actual filmmaking. In other words, you will get out of it only what you put in. Like all great opportunities for accomplishment in this life, film school should demand the best you can give it; it requires self starters, and rewards people who take on the work and responsibility of their own education. 

Many would argue that that very condition is what makes going to school for film a waste of time. If all that self-starting is needed, why not do it outside of the arbitrary demands and monetary cost of formal schooling? Why not just go do it on your own? 

I think of film school like a garden, of sorts. A plant can grow outside of a garden. A seed can find purchase in rough, dry dirt and somehow eke out a meager existence in blinding sunlight and the period deluge. The seed that finds itself surrounded by the careful cultivation of a garden, however, will have a much better opportunity to grow. Film school is that garden. Just as the soil and cultivation of a garden will not grow a seed--the seed must do it's own growing, and take advantage of the better conditions--film students cannot be made into great filmmakers or scholars. They must simply use the better resources that their school provides, so many of which were mentioned in the astute responses last week. 

I'm all for film school, but only for those who can manage to do their own growing. 

Speaking of growing, this blog is going to have to go through a bit of a transition. For over two months, I was good for my word, and posted every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. But it sort of burned me out. The quality of my posts was degenerating, and my will to continue was waning. In short, I got into a rut. It may not have been the most responsible move, but I decided to step away from it for a week. And then, when I came back, I realized I couldn't really continue as I had been. It was sapping too much of my life. 

So, I will promise weekly posts. There may be more, but at this moment, I'll make no guarantees. If you're following this blog in any way (Facebook, Twitter, Google Reader, obsessive daily visits to the actual website...), you'll know when I post, and hopefully rejoice profoundly when I do. 

In the meantime, I'm going to devote more of my time and energy to writing. After all, I'm going to be working on a screenwriting MFA soon, and I figure I'd better get into the habit of...well, screenwriting. Storytelling in general. Also, I'm leaving Provo in a month, and an inestimably important stage of my life will be over. I figure it would be tragic to waste what little time I have left here drowning this blog's tiny audience in too many posts. 

Bear with me. 2190 isn't dying, just dropping its heartbeat a little to outlast the insanity of the next few weeks of my life. 

For the sake of keeping the conversation alive, though, here's a parting, and very sincere question: What is or is not, has or has not been valuable about this blog? If you read 2190 regularly, what do you hope to see? What do you hope not to hear more about? What's helpful? What's not? I think you get the idea. I'm not really doing 2190 for me, so how can I make it better for you?