Tomorrow I begin working at Department 61 — my new work-study job. Department 61 is, more or less, the propaganda arm/leg of the school, and as such it is responsible for putting out all sorts of visual and print media to spread the message that the Savannah College of Art and Design is good and that you (or your son/daughter) should come here for your art studies. I will primarily be producing and editing video content for SCAD On Demand, which — in many cases — means I will be dealing with the entire workflow — from the initial contact with the coordinator of so-and-so event, to writing the script and picking out appropriate b-roll and voice over material, to editing it all together. So, while I never aspired to be a propagandist, this new job will certainly be (as they say) invaluable experience and nice resume material for my post-SCAD future.
I also have to do a video sketch of a place for my directing class over the weekend, which is exactly as it sounds — capture the feel of a location with a video camera. I’m planning on doing my new street/alley at night, with all it’s solitude and creepiness and crack-heads and sublime something-something.
And then there’s the several hundred pages of stuff I need to read, the final project I need to figure out, the presentation I need to work on, the editing reel I need to put together, and the duct tape that I need to buy to keep my head from exploding.
So, why am I so strangely depressed? Is it the overwhelming weight of my workload this quarter, or is it something else — some repeating question that remains unanswered, some void that remains unfilled? I don’t have time to dwell on it, but I can’t not.
I’m remarkably tired, and I realized about an hour ago that I am wearing my pajamas inside out. Life goes on.
My wonderful old friend (and ex-girlfriend) Colleen came to visit me last weekend, and I didn’t really appreciate how nice it was to have her here until I returned to my empty apartment with about ten hours worth of work to do on my self-portrait. Needless to say, it was a weekend full of laughter, reminiscence, and frivolity, and now I miss her more than I did before she came to visit. I wish I’d taken more pictures.
Despite my loneliness, I managed to stay up until six-thirty this morning finishing my self-portrait with the assistance of a remarkable new beverage called “BOO KOO.” It comes in a large can, it makes your eyes bleed and your urine smell, but my how it keeps you awake. The self-portrait came out well, I screened it in class this morning, but I still feel like it needs further tweaking that I’ll never have time for. I’ll try and get the screened version online sometime in the near future for all y’all.
I got a new work-study job editing and producing promotional video material for the school. Ten hours a week, good experience, and apparently one of the best paying work-study jobs on campus — these are all good things.
Time is the thing in short supply this quarter — I already feel overwhelmed and I’m only three weeks in.
I have a rental car until Wednesday, and my intense fatigue is fighting with an intense desire to drive to the beach at midnight and look at the stars. I should pencil that in for tomorrow.
For Real ~ Okkervil River
So I’ve been working on this self-portrait project — I’ve been asking people to call and leave messages on my answering phone about me. Narcissism is inherent in the project, but I learned that I’m a very narcissistic person from the messages I’ve gotten… there’s some sort of clever irony there.
I spent much of last weekend collecting messages from friends and family, and they are… strange, funny, confusing, flattering, amazing, disturbing, poignant, and everything else. In my head they were simply going to be a part of this project, now they have — more or less — become the project.
They’ve also become lodged in my brain, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to dislodge them. A double-edged sword, if you will.
I was a bit bothered by the fact that nobody mentioned my “irresistible charm,” though. Somebody didn’t study their lines, it seems.
Thank you to everyone who left messages, they are all perfect in their own eclectic way. If anyone still wants to leave a message — anyone — call me and do so, or email and I will give you my phone number with which to do so. The project was originally due on Wednesday, but he pushed the due date to (next?) Monday, so there’s still time. There’s still time to talk about Jef!
Beyond that, I’m once again connected to the internet in my apartment, which is another double-edged sword, if you will. I spent much of my disconnected time wondering if this was the way it used to be with telephones and moving — did a period of telephone-disconnect make life very difficult and confusing back then?
I thought about many other things, as well.
I made it back to Savannah both intact and on-time, which is remarkable considering my past. I was forced to take a taxi from the train station back to my apartment, as someone failed to wake up and pick me up as they had repeatedly promised. An extended guilt trip has been planned and executed.
I have a new computer in my apartment, but I am without Internet service until Monday. I do like to get away from the slavery of the information superhighway from time to time, but it’s the beginning of the quarter and thus really an ideal time to be enslaved. I’ll eat boiled pig intestines and allow my massa to rape me if it will allow me to check my email from home.
Until then, though, I begin busy with classes and so forth once again. This quarter I am taking "Directing the Narrative" and "The Context of Filmmaking" — I will be directing and theorizing. My first project — a video self-portrait — is due in a week, I must to get started on that.
I am at the Amtrak station in Cleveland once again, waiting for a train to take me back to Savannah. Late, yes. Always late.
I am in Cleveland, and my head is infected.
Today I went to the doctor and got some antibiotics.