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Amanda Zampelli is a girl in many of my classes, including AVF167, whom I like. She is very pretty, but my attraction to her lies mainly in the fact that she represents 100% of the girls in the AVF department who talk to me voluntarily. Beyond that fact, of the girls who do talk to me, but with whom I'm only scarsely acquainted, she's one of the few whose tone indicates an actually sense of caring. Whether or not it's truly genuine is irrelevent; the warm timbre of her voice is enough to distract me from trying to figure out if she really cares. By all accounts, it seems like she does.
My first class with her was AVF27, Intro to Film Production. She was one of three girls in the class of about 20. Unaware of her friendly disposition, I was not initially fond of her because it seemed as if she talked to all other guys in the class besides me. Being as guilty as anyone else of generalization, and under the influence of depression, I figured she was as stuck up as a vast majority of the girls at Hofstra and that she wanted nothing to do with me. Also, she was a member of the Hofstra Filmmakers Club, a group of people whose collective interests conflict with my own.
The first time she ever addressed me was on the last day of class that semester. The class was reviewing each others' final films. We knew one anothers' limitations in making these films--our inexperience, the unforgiving nature of reversal film stock, the fickleness of the Bolex H16--so most comments were positive and encouraging. In keeping with decency, anyone who chose to make comments would stick with, "I liked the framing," or, "I liked the angles," or any such vague compliments regarding mise-en-scene. It's just common courtesy. These were two- to three-minute films that weren't expected to be anything more than demonstrations of effort. Amanda's film was a boy-meets-girl story that turned out to be, like most of the others, just a dream. Triteness notwithstanding, it was composed and edited well, and probably had the best light exposures of all the films shown. I was one of many who vocally tipped their hats.
My film was about a man who is stalked throughout the day. At the end, he confronts his stalker, who shoots and kills him. We find out that the stalker was the man's double and the film starts over the next day and ad infinitum. I'd like to believe it was the most compelling plot of all films shown. Unfortunately, most of what I shot was grossly underexposed, which was my own fault. I also ran out of film and couldn't film shots that would have been necessary for basic exposition of the plot. On all front, it was an incoherent film. As proud as I was of having directed a short film that didn't culminate in the main character waking up from a dream, I was ashamed of how incapable I was of directing a short film that could be understood.
The praise came from my classmates as it did for everyone else's, except from Amanda, who said little more than, "I didn't understand it."
I wanted to wring her neck and hug her at the same time. It was both the only negative comment I got and the only inciteful one. It was my fault that she didn't understand it. I'm more than willing to take responsibility for its incoherence: I'm willing to apologize for it. But she was the one person in the class who was willing to break the bad news I had already broken to myself.
I think that was nice of her.
Today in 167 we actually touched the Arriflex. It was exhilirating, really. What a marvellous piece of machinery. We learned how to assemble it, clean the gate, attach and focus the lens (a zoom lens that, due to its value, when passed from one person to another, the receiver has to sign a verbal contract by saying, "I got it," before the sender releases), and load the magazine. These tasks could only be taught to groups of four at a time, for the reason that the hands-on intricacies can only be communicated to a few at a time. And while the few learned, the rest waited.
While waiting, I passed the time on the Newsday puzzles page. I was doing the Cryptoquote when Amanda came over and sat next to me, with a paper of her own, and said, "I'm going to do it with you." I thought she meant she'd be doing the crossword. They're on the same page and nobody does the Cryptoquote--not that the Cryptoquote is harder, but fewer people bother to do it. I didn't have much to say to this but a spatter of socially awkward sentence fragments, from which I redeemed myself by keeping silent and staring at the puzzle before me, trying to communicate the joy her presence brought by ignoring her altogether. Minutes passed before someone looming above the table at which we were sitting asked, "Doing the Cryptoquote?" I lifted my head to answer, only to witness three awe-inspiring things:
1) Someone else was doing the Cryptoquote.
2) Amanda was doing the Cryptoquote.
3) Amanda was schooling my ass at the Cryptoquote.
I might as well have been the horny fox in a Tex Avery cartoon at that point. It's the little things that impress me a lot. This is one of those little things that I would find ideal in a woman. Actually, Amanda surpassed it. The little thing that would have impressed me would have been if she were kicking ass at the crossword. This thing was smaller and smaller still. Doing the the Cryptoquote and dominating. And what's more, the stroke that blew the camel's load, she was doing it IN PEN.
I had nothing else to say but, "Amanda, I have to marry you." She giggled a little, but was noticeably unnaffected, or unaware of my affection. I knew there was really nothing I could say at that point. It's hard to explain to a girl that you want to live with her forever simply because she has an interest in word games. It's an untranslateable feeling, probably because it's a retarded one.
Honestly, I have neither the confidence to pursue this, nor the energy to resurface from rejection therefrom. But I am more goal-oriented now, in that my goal is to fucking write an awesome script about something awesome that will get accepted by the class, then to direct it with Amanda as Director of Photography. If all goes well, we'll win an Oscar for Best Dressed Couple.
But I only have two weeks to write this script. I need ideas now more than I've ever needed ideas before.
The answer to today's Cryptoquote: "Rich bachelors should be heavily taxed. It is not fair that some men should be happier than others." -- Oscar Wilde
My first class with her was AVF27, Intro to Film Production. She was one of three girls in the class of about 20. Unaware of her friendly disposition, I was not initially fond of her because it seemed as if she talked to all other guys in the class besides me. Being as guilty as anyone else of generalization, and under the influence of depression, I figured she was as stuck up as a vast majority of the girls at Hofstra and that she wanted nothing to do with me. Also, she was a member of the Hofstra Filmmakers Club, a group of people whose collective interests conflict with my own.
The first time she ever addressed me was on the last day of class that semester. The class was reviewing each others' final films. We knew one anothers' limitations in making these films--our inexperience, the unforgiving nature of reversal film stock, the fickleness of the Bolex H16--so most comments were positive and encouraging. In keeping with decency, anyone who chose to make comments would stick with, "I liked the framing," or, "I liked the angles," or any such vague compliments regarding mise-en-scene. It's just common courtesy. These were two- to three-minute films that weren't expected to be anything more than demonstrations of effort. Amanda's film was a boy-meets-girl story that turned out to be, like most of the others, just a dream. Triteness notwithstanding, it was composed and edited well, and probably had the best light exposures of all the films shown. I was one of many who vocally tipped their hats.
My film was about a man who is stalked throughout the day. At the end, he confronts his stalker, who shoots and kills him. We find out that the stalker was the man's double and the film starts over the next day and ad infinitum. I'd like to believe it was the most compelling plot of all films shown. Unfortunately, most of what I shot was grossly underexposed, which was my own fault. I also ran out of film and couldn't film shots that would have been necessary for basic exposition of the plot. On all front, it was an incoherent film. As proud as I was of having directed a short film that didn't culminate in the main character waking up from a dream, I was ashamed of how incapable I was of directing a short film that could be understood.
The praise came from my classmates as it did for everyone else's, except from Amanda, who said little more than, "I didn't understand it."
I wanted to wring her neck and hug her at the same time. It was both the only negative comment I got and the only inciteful one. It was my fault that she didn't understand it. I'm more than willing to take responsibility for its incoherence: I'm willing to apologize for it. But she was the one person in the class who was willing to break the bad news I had already broken to myself.
I think that was nice of her.
Today in 167 we actually touched the Arriflex. It was exhilirating, really. What a marvellous piece of machinery. We learned how to assemble it, clean the gate, attach and focus the lens (a zoom lens that, due to its value, when passed from one person to another, the receiver has to sign a verbal contract by saying, "I got it," before the sender releases), and load the magazine. These tasks could only be taught to groups of four at a time, for the reason that the hands-on intricacies can only be communicated to a few at a time. And while the few learned, the rest waited.
While waiting, I passed the time on the Newsday puzzles page. I was doing the Cryptoquote when Amanda came over and sat next to me, with a paper of her own, and said, "I'm going to do it with you." I thought she meant she'd be doing the crossword. They're on the same page and nobody does the Cryptoquote--not that the Cryptoquote is harder, but fewer people bother to do it. I didn't have much to say to this but a spatter of socially awkward sentence fragments, from which I redeemed myself by keeping silent and staring at the puzzle before me, trying to communicate the joy her presence brought by ignoring her altogether. Minutes passed before someone looming above the table at which we were sitting asked, "Doing the Cryptoquote?" I lifted my head to answer, only to witness three awe-inspiring things:
1) Someone else was doing the Cryptoquote.
2) Amanda was doing the Cryptoquote.
3) Amanda was schooling my ass at the Cryptoquote.
I might as well have been the horny fox in a Tex Avery cartoon at that point. It's the little things that impress me a lot. This is one of those little things that I would find ideal in a woman. Actually, Amanda surpassed it. The little thing that would have impressed me would have been if she were kicking ass at the crossword. This thing was smaller and smaller still. Doing the the Cryptoquote and dominating. And what's more, the stroke that blew the camel's load, she was doing it IN PEN.
I had nothing else to say but, "Amanda, I have to marry you." She giggled a little, but was noticeably unnaffected, or unaware of my affection. I knew there was really nothing I could say at that point. It's hard to explain to a girl that you want to live with her forever simply because she has an interest in word games. It's an untranslateable feeling, probably because it's a retarded one.
Honestly, I have neither the confidence to pursue this, nor the energy to resurface from rejection therefrom. But I am more goal-oriented now, in that my goal is to fucking write an awesome script about something awesome that will get accepted by the class, then to direct it with Amanda as Director of Photography. If all goes well, we'll win an Oscar for Best Dressed Couple.
But I only have two weeks to write this script. I need ideas now more than I've ever needed ideas before.
The answer to today's Cryptoquote: "Rich bachelors should be heavily taxed. It is not fair that some men should be happier than others." -- Oscar Wilde
