If you think this story ends with me doing something brave and leaving an elated victor or a bruised soul nonetheless proud that he reached for the moon even though he ended up grasping for air...well you just haven't been reading me long enough.
That's not how...I roll.
Instead I entered the room, sat down in a chair moderately far from her, and studiously avoided eye contact as if she were a cross between the X-men's Cyclops and Medusa of legend, instead of a pretty 20 year old girl. Eventually another guy, someone from the class who'd made little enough of an impression on me that not only could I not tell you his name but I couldn't name a single thing he'd said or impression he'd given, entered the room. I proceeded to joke with him in a friendly and somewhat hilarious fashion. We started a conversation and LHG joined in so I talked to her readily and with a good deal of humor until the class started. Of course I directed most of my comments towards poor innocent intermediary guy and rarely made eye-contact, but I did say a few things to her directly and managed to comport myself in my general dorky but sometimes clever and funny manner rather than freezing up or saying outrageously inappropriate junk.
So does this count as a moral victory?
Fuck no! It was an infantile display of weak character and unjustified fear. Not only did I flat out IGNORE any opportunity I might have had but I talked to nondescript guy (who I am sure is a great person with all sorts of fascinating characteristics that I could have unearthed if I only took the time to get to know him, but as unfair and completely unwaranted as it certainly is I still consider him Nondescript boy) over someone who is interesting and cool REGARDLESS of her status as a female so mind-blowingly gorgeous that she could not only stop traffic but probably halt the flow of time itself just so it could gaze in admiration at her freckled face and sly, shy, smile, unmatched throughout its eternal experience.
I'm pretty much a big fat pussy. Opportunities (if there was one, I mean I can always console myself when I'm alone in my dotage that I probably would have struck out like an AL pitcher during an interleague game if I had made anything resembling an attempt) are wasted on me. I don't even have the balls to go down swinging. I just stand there at the plate and watch the strikes fly over the plate before going meekly back to the dugout.
I was clever for the rest of the class, not that it matters. My timing and use of Kim Catrall in the Maniquen jokes was totally appropriate. There wasn't much time to ask about film school so instead we watched shorts, most of which weren't great. LHG was laughing at one of my jokes as she rushed out the door and off to wherever beautiful girls like her go when they're not turning a grey sky blue with their presence in a room or dancing through my dreams. I don't know of the exact geographical location but I imagine it's full of pink fluffy pillows and Pac-Man machines.
Okay probably a dorm room with empty beer bottles on the floor and a waiting boyfriend. I prefer the pink pillows. Can't I have just that?
After class Frank and I went up to his house to finish cutting together our movies. We left at 6:20. I got back home at around 3 in the morning. It was an experience allright, one that I enjoyed in a lot of ways. Cutting together the film noir segment was tough and took a long time but we got it down pretty decent, and the others work too.
Overall I'm impressed with what we produced. It's good stuff, not great stuff, but worth watching for a student film and with more polish and professionalism maybe even worth watching just in general. Some of the scenes are hilarious and others are just plain entrancing with the beauty of the shots. I think I'm a pretty damned good cinematographer, just to toot my own horn a little.
We did decent work. It's not being graded (our papers are) but this is some of the first work I've done at Columbia that has actually made me proud. That could be a good sign for film as a subject.
The only thing I regret is pissing off Marissa. She was super nice and suportive to start with but you could tell that by the time it was 2 AM and her bedroom was still occupied by two guys hashing out a proper matchcut for the street to park sequence (we needed to match on a right step as it landed on the ground and it was hard to find the perfect footage) she was pissed. Eventually she just went in and collapsed in the bed behind us. We were keeping her up anyway with our voiceover work and exhausted laughter. He drove me home and I kept nodding off because the car was hot. I hope he made it back home safely, I made him get some coffee before he went and roll down the damn windows of his Benz. Shame to wrap a car that pretty around a tree.
I got a burst of enery upon arriving home and wrote this as well as doing a few other things. I have a TON of work to do and it won't be all that fun but for now I am happy about how the films turned out. We may work together again in the future, which would be cool.
Oh, and I do look like a total fat fuck when we're looking at the film on his big Mac widescreen monitor and not the tiny little videocamera monitor. I thought I'd straighten that out.
I should get some shuteye now. Not much else to report from today but it was a good time. I can't believe how I can do more than 7 hours of SOLID work in film editing and love it while reading a book for class for 2 hours can feel like torture.