spring break

I leave tonight to go back to so cal for spring break. For some reason, I'm not as excited as I should be--I have a ton of things that need to be done back home: get my blood drawn, do my storyboard for film class, and storyboard another film that I'm also working on. But there will be other things that I get to do: hang out with fam and friends, sleep in my own bed. Good times. Today is my brother's birthday incidentally. He is 27. Happy Birthday, Kuya!

Collective went well, despite the fact that some of the people who worked on A.'s film were there. They didn't say anything to me though. Whatever. They can think what they want to think. The guy I liked was there, but he showed up late. He gave a talk about composing shots. I was looking at him--you know how you have to look at someone when they speak? Yeah, I was doing that and he would look at me when he'd speak for a couple of seconds, and then he'd look away. Usually, I'd look away if the speaker saw me looking at him, but this time I didn't. I held my ground. I was genuinely interested in what he was saying, and he was speaking so well.

I was hoping he'd say hi to me, anything, but he didn't. I wonder if he even remembers me at all. What could I say to him, at this point? "Hi, I'm Elaine, you taught me how to use the clapper board a couple weeks back." It just sounds so dorky. Well, I'll figure it out after break when I come back. He's a sophomore, so I'll probably see him around.

it's a tough business

Sorry for the double-day post. But, this just had to be posted: No calls returned. I didn't get to work on the film.

I felt like complete shit. This wasn't your fault, L. said. It's just circumstance. You have no car. You had a ride who backed out on you, and the production manager never called you back. It's no big deal.

It's important to me to stay true to my word. I don't like disappointing anyone. When the clock turned to 4:00 today--the call time of the shoot--I felt like I had disappointed the director, my parents, my brother. I was so happy to have this opportunity, to be able to say that I helped out on someone's film, even if it is something "lowly" like being a production assistant or working for crafts services. I didn't care. I want to be around film, around people who work with film. My fam was really excited for me because they know how much I want this.

I called my brother, thinking it would make me feel better. Boy, was I wrong. I was close to tears. He told me to write a letter of apology to the director, which I did and sent already. Kuya tried to comfort me, saying that he was sorry. I was sorry too. It lasted no longer than three minutes. Tears started to well up in my eyes, and I wanted to cut the convo short. See you on Thursday, he said. Dad and I will pick you up at the airport. Thanks, Kuya.

I tossed my cell phone on my bed. Grabbed a couple of tissues and went into the bathroom. I sat on the toilet seat cover and cried for a good five minutes. Why is this happening? I wanted this so much, but why? Why? Why did this have to happen? God, you know how much I wanted this. I tried to stifle my sobs. I think L. heard me though.

God is testing me. He's is putting me through fire and brimstone to make me stronger, tougher. I thought about not going to Collective tomorrow because I thought that the guys there that run it (and worked on the film) would put my name and face together and think, "That's the girl who didn't show up to the shoot." L. said that if I did that, then they would win. I can't let them win. No. This girl is going to rise up and achieve the dream she's wanted for so long. I am going to try harder now. I will not go softly into the night. Courage and gentleness, like so many of Plato's Guardians. Combine courage and gentleness. I will not be brutal and a savage, but I will be strong. I will not be cowardly and weak, but I will be gentle and passionate. The concentration and eyes of a Samurai. The cunning of a Ninja.

I can recall my cousin's words, when I was a naive 14 yr. old, and I had confided in her that I wanted to work in film: "It's going to be harder for you. You're female. And you're Asian." She's right. It is going to be harder for me. I always knew this, but this must be in my mind at all times. I must always be aware of this.

I will walk tall. I will push my shoulders back and be the commanding woman that I need to be.

Everything happens for a reason. This had to happen. I needed this.

still nothing

13:08. This is fucking ridiculous. Excuse my profanity.

I am restless. My eyelids are weird and puffy and won't fold properly when they are open. Do you ever get that? You know that you didn't get much sleep or didn't sleep well enough when your eyes do that. And now, I look tired. I am tired.

Yesterday, it was my right eye that was messed up. I got up that morning, and I felt it, without looking in the mirror. Damn, no sleep last night. I went to the mirror to confirm. Affirmative. No sleep. The eyelid thing also happens when you had a good cry the night before. I wasn't crying last night or the night before that. I was just worried about the shoot.

If I'm ever going.

I curled my eyelashes, to look more awake, something that I usually reserve for special occasions or days like these when I need to look awake. Awake.

Called the production manager too many times, in my opinion. Left two messages. Still no call back. He said he would be able to give me a ride. I must know for sure. I hate waiting around, not being sure, waiting till last minute. I guess with me, on certain things, everything has to be "just so". I am halfway to being a perfectionist.

This will be the last time I will call him. This isn't fair and right and respectful. Is it because my cell phone area code is from Los Angeles and yet I'm living in San Fran? Who knows. Maybe he has some sort of secret vendetta against Los Angeles and its people. Here I go. 13:16.

Nothing. No answer. Didn't leave a message this time. Say something, please, dear readers. I see the numbers on my counter go up. Write something to me, anything. Something nice, something mean, bein angry with me or sympathize with me, just anything. It would make me feel better to know that you're reading this.

wigging out

Still no ride to the shoot. Crap. I sent a nice mass e-mail to everyone asking please for a ride, I will even pay for your gas. No response. The shoot is tomorrow.

I was hoping that at least ONE person would help me out. I mean, I would be nice and help this person out if she needs a ride to the shoot. God, why?!?!?! Now, I have to call the production manager, who really scares me by the way, and explain my situation. My ride bailed out on me. I can't find a ride to the shoot. I'm really extremely sorry, I really want to be there, but I can't make it. Damn.

I wish I wasn't such a little girl about this, a little wuss. I wish that I was strong, brave enough to make more friends.Friends with cars who work on shoots. God, I'm so pathetic. I was even more pathetic yesterday. God, you should have seen me. If you have seen me, you would have slapped me silly for being such a Prufrock.

Went to the Collective @ the Coppola--a little student film festival--last night. The guys that I spoke about in my post "the opportunities continue" were there. The guy that I think is cute (S.) was there. I was walking down the stairs with my friends toward the theatre, wearing my dorky Holden hat. He was outside the theatre looking real cute with jeans, a button down shirt and tie, and a blazer. I felt like a real dork with my hat--but it's oh-so warm--and kept my eyes on the ground. Here it is, the real Prufrock moment: I pretended not to see him. In my mind, I thought, "He won't recognize me. I'm nobody. Just that stupid girl he taught to use the clapper board. That was two weeks ago almost. If I said hi to him, he would just think that I was weird. It would be pathetic. I'm nothing to him. He probably doesn't even know my name."

We walked in to the theatre. While we were sitting down, waiting for the films to start, he and the guy who lent me his scarf and gloves (P.) did a little introduction. I was sitting at the edge of the row. They were going up the aisle near me to get back to their seats. A girl, standing by my row waited at the side. She hugged S., no more than three feet away from me. "Of course," I thought. I kept my eyes on the ground.

I'm going to stop writing about such sad things now. The night went on like that. He was so near, and I was too afraid to say hello. Why must I be the first to make a move? Well, I don't want to depress you too much. I can't help but be afraid, think of the worst, imagine the rejection before it's even realized. I've been a Prufrock for too long.

a change

A new post. I woke up today and realized that I haven't even updated my other blog since forever and that it's pretty much useless since I haven't been taking a lot of pictures. Instead of scrapping it, I turned it into my weight-loss/spiritual journey/path to a healthy lifestyle blog. It's just to make sure I stay on the path to being health and fit. It's totally selfish, and I didn't want to bore you guys with my whole getting fit struggle since you come here to read about my experiences, life, funny stuff, etc.. Since this whole weight loss thing kind of came up after this blog, I didn't want it to take away from this blog. Comprends? That means "understand?".

Don't worry, I'll still post here as much as I do now. I'll just have more to post since I'm going to try and run two blogs regularly. See--more work for me!!! You get to have all the fun and read.

So yeah. Read up, if you're interested and if you need some insight as to why I am doing what I am doing (even though I kind of explained here too). And for some of my tips to living good and healthy--from a college student, no less. And if you just want to stick with my posts on my life and experiences, then keep on reading and ignore the link on the left.

I'd like to see you try and ignore it. You know you want to click it.

not cool

So, I don't have a ride to the shoot anymore. The girl said that something came up and that she wouldn't be able to work on the film. I knew it was too good to be true. I got the nerve to ask this other guy who is in my film class and is also working on the film. He said that he'd give me a ride. Of course, with my "trust no one" mantra, I'll have my knife in my back pocket during the ride, and if he tries anything he gets a swift karate kick to you-know-where. He emailed me back today, and he said he wasn't on the call sheet. So, no ride again. He said if he happens to work on my day--Sunday--then he'd be able to take me. Let's hope it works out. Let's hope something works out so that I can get a ride to and from the shoot.

I'm sick of my flatmates. One of them, primarily. I rearranged the furniture so that we could use this other chair to face the tv. It's been facing all the other chairs and was pretty much useless. To make use of this chair, I had to move one of the side tables closer to the window. This side table is usually next to the couch. Everyone was happy with this new arrangement until yesterday.

Last night, while I was sleeping, my flatmate, put all the furniture back to where it was before. Three nights ago, she had complained that she missed the side table being by the couch because "that's where I put my drinks". There's a coffee table in front of the couch. Is it really too much to reach down and put your stupid coffee lattes and stupid vegan snacks on the coffee table, you hypocrite? She ate brownies the other day that had milk in them, and she ate cheesecake last month. Talk about scruples.

Anyway, I was pretty pissed, but I'm dealing with this by just letting it go and not saying anything. I can't let it get to me. She's not a "good" person, if you know what I mean. I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. Being an outsider, a watcher, an observer, will do that to you. And she's not a good person. She's inconsiderate and totally dependent. She's messy, and she doesn't clean up after herself. She likes being the center of attention. When we all eat at the dining center together, she just has to tell some hilarious story so she can laugh out loud in her loud, annoying way. I don't like being the type of person who rails on people, but I just can't hold this in any longer, and I had to vent. I'm just glad that I'm not living with her next year.

It makes you wonder...She has a lot of friends, or acquaintances, I can't really distinguish the two, and yet how come she didn't make living arrangements with them at the start of the year? Most of them live in this very building. So there's that. Second, why does she want to live with us again next year? She asked if we (L. and I) wanted to get an apartment with her. NNNOOOO!!! I'm guessing it's because no one else wants to live with her. L. and I are really good flatmates--we're clean, and nice, and good people (we are!). We actually do our chores. Ugh.

I just got to have the attitude of the knife--cut her out of my life and say "it's finished". Come May, this will all be over, and we won't have to live with her again. I will continue to be nice and respectful toward her for the rest of the semestre. I will listen nicely to her stupid, mundane stories. Laugh at her jokes. Enjoy her vegan snacks when she offers them to me. But come May--the knife. Cut her off; it has ended there.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

things I'm enjoying:
1. my hair--it's growing oh-so-nicely
2. anything having to do with film
3. sunny days
4. graham crackers
5. being with good people

already seen

The production meeting went well. I had the most insane case of deja vu during it though. I almost flipped out. We were sitting in a room and all the desks were in a circle. The production manager was talking about where we were shooting on which days. There was a guy next to me that had his motorcycle helmet on his desk. The helmet set it off. I've done this before. I've sat in this room before, I have been here before and done all this already. Deja vu is so weird. I wish I could be the accent on the "e", but I'm kind of lazy right now, and I have a lot of homework to do. Translated, deja vu means "already seen" in French.

How is it that I can remember something that has never happened while it's happening? I sound crazy...Okay, what I mean is this: I've never even been to that room before. All the people that were there, I've never met save for the director and one of the other PAs. So how come when I was in that room, I remember being there before, seeing all those people, sitting in that exact desk and seeing that helmet right where it was? I even remember having the vision of that room. I don't exactly remember when, but it was earlier this year. I was in my bedroom, sitting on my bed, and I saw myself in that room which I've never been in before sitting in that desk and being in a production meeting. I think I was spacing out, daydreaming, but not dreaming about anything real at all, just letting my mind wander.

I want to believe that I have some sort of untapped psychic energy. I get deja vu a lot. It doesn't scare me, I just get a little flipped out by it. Can I see into the future? Do I have any real choices at all? Is everything planned out for me already by God? Am I making the choices He wants? Whenever I get deja vu I think, this is what God wants. He is telling me that all this is okay. That all this is part of the plan, that all this adds towards my future.

I met a girl at the meeting. She's really nice. She offered to drive me to the shoot since we're both working on the same days. The Saturday shoot is from 4 to midnight. She says she doesn't want to be driving alone at night. I said that I would pay for her gas. Thank you God for sending me a new friend. A friend who will drive me to the shoot. Thank you for giving me the confidence I need. Thank you for the signs.

ah!

Production meeting this Saturday. Will meet with the rest of the crew and discuss the production schedule. I'm scared out of my wits. Emailed one of the TAs from my filmmaking class and asked for advice. He told me to be myself and be confident and not to stress out because making movies is really stressful. I have to help relieve the stress by doing my job, whatever it may be, to the best of my capability. We'll see how it goes. I'm not scheduled to work until the 25th and 26th. Ahh!! I'm so scared! I have to act like I'm not scared. I have to be myself--no problem. Why would I want to be someone else? Unless I become that "ditzy girl" I hate oh so much. Death to ditzy girl. Make way for the new and improved, the confident and oh-so-cool Prufrock. She's smart, witty, and super cute.

Tonight is Pulp Fiction night at the dining center. They're going to have quarter-pounders with cheese and milkshakes. The president of the Film Appreciation Club is hosting it. She's really nice. She was at Collective on Monday, but left early. She asked me and L. if we could help make the milkshakes. And we said we would. It's been Tarantino week all week, and we went to the last two films, Kill Bill 1 and 2. It's sad because no one else comes. I'd be really pissed if a ton of people show up just because of the free food. I can't eat the red meat anyway. I am looking forward to the milkshake.

Yesterday, my arms were sore from Monday night. Being a grip is a lot heavy lifting. I didn't realize how much stuff I was carrying around and how heavy they were until yesterday. My arms were noodles. And I was total crap during karate class. Not cool. But feeling this pain made me happy, for some reason. It made me feel alive. Just like gasping for breath after running up 12 stories makes you feel alive.

the opportunities continue...

For the first time here, I finally went to a Cinema Collective meeting at my school. It's this film club that meets every Monday. I was always scared to go by myself or I've always had a class during the time that they meet, but I finally went. It was worth it.

I got the balls to go last Friday, when I attended a forum hosted by the guys who run the Cinema Collective. There were only a handful of people there--mostly girls, but it was cool. I went because I knew someone who was going. The guys gave a lot of really good information. They showed us some student films, and they said that the Collective met every Monday and that we should all check it out. So I went.

It was amazing. I thought that we'd probably talk for a few minutes and then that would be it. The main guy, P., said that we were going to do a night shoot. Outside. In the cold. I was terrified. I don't know a thing about making a real film, other than the stuff I read about in the books, and even that stuff is just a drop in the bucket to what I should know. There were 2 other girls sitting by me. I asked them what they were going to do: lighting, sound, camera? They were going to do lighting. I asked if I could tag along with them.

The ratio of guys to girls was high--which is pretty cool considering that I was surrounded by a bunch of dorky, film-passionate guys. They were awesome. Some of them were cute too. P. was really helpful and nice. He taught me a lot about the things that grips do. There was another guy--he brought a lot of the equipment: the tracks for the dolly, the lights, C stands, extension cords. He was cool too. His name is S.. I thought that he was cute. He taught me how to use the clapper board. Can you imagine? I was calling out the scenes and takes. This one girl who was a member of the Collective for a while came up to me and said that I did a good job! I was so happy. And then, after I did another take, S. looked over at me--he was holding one of the light stands because it was really windy--and he smiled and gave me a thumbs up. It was getting colder and wetter. P. repeatedly asked me if I was cold and if I wanted gloves. I said that I was okay. I was lying, I just didn't want to be a wuss. I wanted to be accepted, you know?

During a set-up for another take, P. calls me over. We chatted a little. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I answered, "Direct...but anything in film would be great." He smiled. He said that he wanted to direct to but that he likes gripping as well. He then took off his scarf and gloves and told me to wear them. How sweet and nice is that? Such a rarity. I was amazed.

Anyway, I did horribly on my French test because I didn't come home from the shoot until 9:30. And I sleep around 10. I need my beauty sleep. It was worth it though. I am scared though about that other shoot that I volunteered to be a PA for. Kuya was telling me that they usually treat PAs like crap. That I have to have heart of stone. We'll see how that goes, remember my summer job? That pulverized me. Ugh. I hated that stupid desk job. I did it for the money though. Heart of stone. Heart of stone. I can't let people walk all over me like I let them do. God, help me get through this, and give me strength.

nothing like it

There's nothing like a really good home-cooked meal. I had one yesterday. My Dad's aunt, who I just call "Grandma", called me up two weeks ago and asked if I wanted to have dinner at their place. I had called in January when I came back to SF, but they hadn't called me back. They were in the Philippines. I said that I was really busy (it was the weekend right before "hell" week, which didn't turn out to be so bad anyway), but that I was free the following Saturday, which was yesterday.

Took the M line, got off at the last stop, and walked a little over half a mile to their house. I figured that I could have used the walk anyway, and I didn't feel like waiting for the J. They live in the most beautiful house I have ever laid my eyes on. A grand, San Francisco kind of house. Steps leading up to the doorway, wood paneling in the living room and dining room, a large kitchen, a basement bigger and as comfortable as my apartment--I could go on. It's just such a nice house. Even their furniture is nice. It's old and ornate, but surprisingly clean and new-looking.

Grandma answered the door. She was in the middle of cooking. She asked me how I got here. She was worried that I walked "so far", but I explained that I liked walking, and that it was not too bad. She offered me pastries from the Philippines. So good. We'll have to wait for the other to arrive because they went to church: Grandpa; their son and his wife A. and M.; their daughter A.;and Father L., who was saying Mass and staying at their house for a couple of days until he leaves for DC. She asked me how my parents were. They just came back from Europe. At the mention of Europe, she sat me down in the living room and handed me 4 photo albums of her trip to Europe. I love looking at photos, especially when they're from another time. I think she wanted to keep me busy for she was still cooking.

The rest of the family arrived. I was introduced to Father L., who came from Cambodia. He showed me pictures of the orphanage he started there. He took 800 kid orphans out of the factories, and now they're in school, learning how to take care of themselves, and just being kids. How awesome is that? He said he has volunteers from Korea and Australia. It makes me want to volunteer. Maybe I'll do that sometime.

Food was so good: wonton soup, eggplant in oyster sauce, steamed crab, rice. Desert was sliced oranges and pomello. Father sat at the head of the dining room table and blessed the food. The family was so nice to me, and they made me feel at home. A. and M. took me home since it was raining, and they lived nearby. Grandma sent me home with a care package: 2 oranges, 1 apple, some ham that she had in the fridge ("You can make sandwiches") and all the filipino pastries she brought back from the Philippines. I refused to have all her pastries, but she insisted. They're really good. She said for me to come back often. I assured her that I will.

Lovely. Such a good time. It makes me really appreciate how big and caring my family is. I mean, this is my Dad's aunt. It just seems so unlikely to me to be having dinner with my Dad's aunt without my Dad. And they just welcomed me like I was a part of the family. I mean, I am, but I'm like a couple branches over on the family tree. God, I love it when people are good and warm and loving. They're hosting a priest for crying out loud! God bless them.

this must be "cinema" week

Another post. I know I shouldn't post so much, I mean--I've only got an hour of internet a day! Actually, I had to increase it to 1.5 hours, because sometimes I need to use the internet for homework. I'm horrible. Anyway, this is seriously "cinema" week. A whole bunch of things are happening, doors are opening, things are looking lovely, and scary at the same time...

Just yesterday morning I was wishing for an opportunity to work on a student film, just so that I can have at least some experience. Went to filmmaking class, and S., a TA, was passing out flyers. Someone needs production assistants for his master thesis film. There were only so many flyers, and the last one got to me. This must be a sign. Funny, just the other day, I prayed to God to send me a sign whether or not Cinema is the right direction because I just wasn't feeling it. I mean, I totally know that God wants me to learn French, but I wasn't sure about cinema. I know I want to major in Cinema, but is this what God wants for me? I just want to do what He wants me to do, what I am meant to do.

I met with the director today, and he has all my contact info and everything. I think I came off as ditzy and stupid again. God, why do I always do that? I was very honest and said that I have no experience but that I'm very eager to learn. He said he'll call me. They're filming for 10 days at the end of this month. I said that I was free on the weekends. He said he'll call me. I hope this works out. I want as much experience as I can possible get. I still have a bit of the Prufrock in me, but only the good parts, I think. Why does one have to be outgoing in this business? Wes Anderson doesn't seem veyr outgoing, but he gets movies made.

my first half-kiss

Wow. Wow. Wow. A lovely encounter with the perfect stranger.

I had a cinema studies exam today, and I was on the way to that class. My friend is always there early, and she saves a seat for me on her right. I sit in the middle of the row. It's actually the same room as my other film class that I wrote about--see the post on dorks, just scroll down.
I enter the class from the back. I can see the back of D.'s head (that's her), my seat on her right, and then next to that seat, some blonde guy. So, my seat was in the middle of D. and this stranger. I felt awkward about going to that seat because I didn't want to squeeze myself through the row: it's a tight row, and I didn't want to even bother.

I go to that row and sit two seats away from him. D. sees me and waves me over, moving the backpack that she used to save my seat. "Excuse me", I say, tip-toeing over his feet. I do a little turn, and I sit down. This is so uncomfortable, I think. Why does this guy have to sit here? Of all places?

A couple more minutes till class starts. I get out my notebook and text and start to study. He's studying too. He has blond hair that's kind of long. Not so long that it's gross, but maybe it'll be a month or two before it starts to look grungy. He has facial hair--not too bad either. Just a little goatee/beard thing going on. It sounds gross, but I don't know how to make it sound any nicer. See Keanu Reeves in the trailer for "A Scanner Darkly". He has that kind of hair and facial hair. He wears a striped button-down shirt and jeans.

I've seen him before. He sat in this row before, I remember. I also see him in the gym when I'm on my way to karate class. I remember! I remember! I was leaving the locker room with my gi on, and I was tightening my belt, and he was walking toward me with a bunch of other people, and he was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, like he just got finished working out, and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and we made eye contact for a few seconds, and I wondered where I knew him from. That's him. That's him. The same guy. The cute gym guy.

Without moving my head, I peer at what he's reading. It's a test, one that was already done and corrected. He had today's test in his hands. Probably got it from a friend. What a cheater! I look back at the text, looking for the difference between depth of field and deep focus.

He turns to me, his arm leaning on the arm rest, "Hey, do you know who was the first to make a film?" I look down at his test--the person who had done it had left it blank. I dunno, I'll look it up. I turn to the chapter on the history of film.

I lean close to read the text carefully. He leans close as well. Too close. Our cheeks were less than an inch apart. It's like when you go in to kiss somebody--I wouldn't know how this actually feels because I've never kissed somebody before--but I'm writing this as if I did know. I mean, I can imagine what a kiss must be like. Anyway, it was like he was going in to kiss me, but he stopped mid-way. I kept still, I didn't want to look offended (I wasn't) or show that I was uncomfortable (I was).

We are both looking for the answer. Where is it? God, does my breath smell? Can he feel my breath? I can feel his. Or is this my breath I am feeling?Why is my heart beating out of my damn chest? It's okay, I'm wearing my ugly, baggy sweatshirt so he can't see it. God, why am I wearing my ugly, baggy sweatshirt on this day of all days? This is so weird and new and...nice. Thank you God for this new experience. I am not actually looking for the answer anymore, my eyes are out of focus. This closeness makes my mind race. I imagine this classroom empty, the room dark, a film being projected on the screen. We move in in closer, closer, closer...

"I think this is it," he points to a name. He is still close. He backs away now and settles into his seat. "Thanks," he says. "Do you want to take a look at this?" He motions to the corrected test. I say no thanks--integrity, people! He leans over to D. and hands the test back to a girl that sits at D.'s left. I forgot her name, but she sits by D., and the three of us usually sit in that row together. It's not his test! I forgive him.

Class starts. We take the test. After that, we all file out to turn it in. He gets to the front of the class before we do. As I am in line to turn my paper in, I catch him near the door, looking at me. I turn mine in, ready to leave, but he is gone. No trace of him in the hallway. So long, stranger. I ask D. if she knows him and she says no. Does that other girl know him? "No. He just sat by us."

There were so many moments before we started the test where I wanted to ask him his name, whether his major was cinema, whether he studied a lot for this test. Wait, actually, he asked me if I studied and I said not that much. I should have asked him a question after that! I mean, I should have actually conversed with him instead of him asking all the questions and me pretending to study when all I could do was think about whether or not I should ask him something. That would have been fair. But no, I'm shy and paralyzed and guys in mid-air kiss that's not supposed to be a kiss will do that to me. So this guy, this stranger, is my first half-kiss. Haha.

I am so lame.

blink

Congrats to the director of "Crash". My friend made me see it, and I'm glad I did. At first because of all the hype I didn't want to see it. But it's well done. Wish it had more Asians though.
I could never be an actor. Or actress, rather. I blink too much. I blink all the time, probably because of my contacts. Without contacts though, I think I'm okay. I read in my text for cinema studies that too much blinking causes the audience to distrust the character. That they're probably hiding something. I've been watching films and television more closely now, and I noticed how a lot of actors deliver they're lines without blinking, or they blink during a pause. It's very interesting.

"Nothing is forgotten, even if you can't remember it." -- Zeniba (?)

I watched "Spirited Away" for the second time. I last saw it right when it came out. It was beautiful, and it made me cry. The moment that I cried was when Chihiro was flying on Haku's back, and she remembers where she knows him from. He turns back into a boy, and she cries, and they're falling from the sky. She remembers that he saved her from drowning, and that his real name is Kahaku, or something like that and that he was the river spirit. But they filled it in to build apartments. So sad!

True love broke the spell that bound Haku--amazing. We were talking about true love and what our hearts should be composed of in philosophy class. An amazing class. Every student should have to take a philosophy class in his lifetime. Anyway, that's why I have that quote up there. I quickly jotted it down because it was so beautifully said, and it's a great quote.

Incidentally, this is probably the worst week of my semestre, and I'm blogging. Four exams and two papers. Unbelievable. It's like all the professors got together over coffee and said to each other, "Let's make this hell week for Elaine." And then they'd fetch their TAs to write the hardest exams and essay prompts possible. I swear, that's what happened. Whatever. I can get through this. My major is on the line though. I need to get a B or higher in these two cinema classes to remain a cinema major. Ugh.

Sometimes I wish I could have just gone straight to working in film out of high school. Or go to a technical school like those ones they advertise on daytime tv. I'd probably be living on my own and missing out on all that great "college" stuff that they speak about. If you're really outgoing and the kind of person who makes friends easily, then you'll definitely experience all that college "fun" people talk about. But if you're a reclusive, shy person--not so much. You'll just experience the kind of stuff that becomes inspirational for your art and whatever medium you use to show your art.

I think that weighs more to me than being hungover and making a bunch of acquaintances who just want to use your printer.

things that have been really yummy lately:
1. graham crackers and nutella
2. pretzels and nutella
3. cheddar cheese and pretzels

things that I want instantly gratified:
1. spring break to be here
2. that A. the cinema T.A. would smile at me at class
3. to have shoulder length hair (why does hair grow so slow when you want it to grow it out?)
4. for this stupid week to be over

another post about dorks

The beautiful thing of the week: I love how dorky and cute guys can be. True dorks. And most of the time, they're not even trying! I think. That's the best part. You probably know me so well, that you've already figured that dorkiness would captivate my heart. I mean, I've written about it so many times before. Haha. Well, it does, and it should captivate your heart too. And if you're a guy, I'm sure you've seen girls be dorky and cute, and if not, then I'm extremely sorry!

During filmmaking class, we were learning about lighting. The cute, dorky TAs were setting up the key light (the main light on the subject), the fill light (fills in the shadows), and a back light (highlights the back of the subject, or lights a part of the background) in the front of the classroom, which is really an auditorium with stadium seating. They set up a camera and hooked it up to the projector so you can see all that was happening. On the large screen you can see the TAs setting up the lights and everything around a chair which would be used for the person who would be the subject.

My fave TA, A., the one who is a director of photography, and reminds me of Mark Ruffalo (epitome of dorky glasses-wearing guys--and A. wears glasses like the ones Ruffalo wears in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"!) noticed that the camera was set-up and that he was being projected on the screen. [Cute, dorkiness alert!] He waved to the camera shyly and simultaneously looked at his image above at the screen. So lovely. I was one of the few who laughed at this display of dorkery. It was so beautiful and lovely and dorky that I could feel my heart glow a bright red and blush. He continued doing what he does best, disregarding the camera that was capturing every movement he made and projecting it onto the screen.

And there was more...The lighting was finally set-up. A student volunteered to be the subject. The key light was on him, and the fill light was getting rid of all the shadows that his nose cast. At first, he didn't want to be the person to explain the lighting, but the prof said, "But, you're a great D.P." He shrugged, looked at the crowd of students eagerly waiting to learn, and began to speak. A. was explaining the lights and their uses, talking slowly and softly, yet he was loud enough so that everyone in the auditorium could hear him.

He said that the backlight could be used to highlight someone and distinguish them from the background. He focused the backlight on the subject's back. His image immediately popped out of the screen, all eyes on the subject, a guy with longish blond hair and glasses. He no longer blended with the background. The light can also highlight something the director wants the audience to see in the background.

Behind the subject and against the wall was a desk with a large water bottle on it. A. turned the instrument (what they call each light) and bathed the water bottle in bright, white light. On the screen, you can see it in the background, glowing. He said, "Maybe he's really thirsty." I laughed, with a few other students who caught this soft remark, covering my mouth and trying to stifle the smile that his comment provoked.

I wanted to hide my laughter, my pleasure, for I didn't want to stand out. I sit in the absolute middle of the classroom, for my viewing pleasure, and I had my Ash Wednesday ashes on my head, the only one in the room who did. As if, I didn't stand out already.

I don't think I did though, that much, that day. I watched A. closely, taking notes on all the lights, their positions, how we should set up our own three-point lighting set. When he spoke to us, he would look at the students, becoming a better, more confident speaker--he had said earlier that he hated to talk (he even refused the microphone that the prof regularly uses). He and I would make eye-contact. Only briefly, but it was wonderful, to have someone, even a stranger, you find lovely to look into your eyes. Dorks. They're a beautiful thing.

Incidentally, the ashes I received resemble a heart. It's in my profile picture, kind of small, but I'll reproduce it here so it's easier to see. Good luck on your Lenten sacrifices, if you have any. I also added red meat to mine!