When I was a college film student, one of the first classes putting theory into practice divided the students into groups of three. The class goal was for each group to make three films. The group would rotate among themselves the key positions of Writer, Director, and Cinematographer. This allowed everyone a chance to experience those roles.
Our group produced one that was silly fun, one that was weird and off-the-cuff, and one that was interesting and which affected people.
Sadly, I have only memories (so I might be making this up).
I was tempted — just for a moment — to call this The Lost Oeuvre, but it really doesn’t rate such a highfalutin title. (And until just now, I had no idea “highfalutin” was a single, hyphen-free, word.) Considering that “works” can refer to drug-taking gear, that word seems just right.
Going through some old stuff, I came across typewritten copies of a few scripts from my film student college days. Not just film, but television production, too. I ended up becoming a computer programmer, but for a while I aspired to be the next George Lucas (or more likely, Quentin Tarantino).
For fun, I thought I’d share one of the ones I’m not too embarrassed by all these years later.
Today is the last Day of Christmas. If you’ve been following the song, your house is filled with leaping Lords, milking maids, two groups of musicians, and an awful lot of birds. But now you can usher them out, take down the lights and decorations, and put the tree out on the curb for pickup.
I’m guessing some of you did the de-decorating on December 26th and didn’t even buy your true love a partridge. On the other hand, the 2015 Christmas season apparently begins on August 31st (and includes “Black November”) so it’ll be back before you know it!
Until then, it’s time to get back to the grindstone.
Recently I told you about how, in high school, a casual decision to take an elective added a new direction to my compass. That new direction turned towards a world I had never imagined, and the path along that direction brought me to many joyful and wonderful experiences. For a long time I followed that path towards an imagined future somewhere down the road.
But in college, once again, a casual decision to try something new added yet another direction to my compass. And that path, too, led to joy and wonder. And that path did take me down a road towards my future. Towards my present.
At some point a few years after discovering this new path, I began to refer to the high school discovery as “my first rebirth.” That made the college one my second “rebirth.” And the term is apt, because I was, indeed, reborn into a new world of experience and knowledge. But these days, to be “reborn” has another meaning I don’t intend.