Friday, September 16, 2005Cheesed Off
Today was the day -- I went up to the media lab with the intention of filling in some gaps in my footage logs in order to pave the way for the creation of a full assembly edit on Sunday. I arrived to find a blissfully empty lab -- I can't stand it when people watch me edit, drives me fucking nuts -- and I sat down, booted up, started FCP, and went to open my project files...
... and they were gone.
In my temp folder sat a number of files for something called "Sunny's Plan," files that had no actual data, just sitting there in MY folder where my precious footage was a week previously. I don't know who the hell Sunny is, and I don't know why she couldn't figure out that the folder with my name on it probably wasn't the best place to store her dud files, but if I ever run across her I'm going to give her the most digusted look I can muster. No, it's not the end of the world, just a minor setback -- I still have my footage, and I hadn't done any editing, so all I lost was the two hours it took to import it all, plus the two hours I couldn't spend filling in my logs because I didn't have the footage. And, of course, the four hours it'll take me to re-import all my footage and then fill in my logs on Sunday, which I could've spent actually editing. But I'm well fucked off now anyway -- hardly out of the gate and already things are screwed up. It better not go like this for the rest of the term.
And then there's a kind of intellectual tug-of-war going on between my two main professors, with my mind being the red rag knotted in the middle of the rope. Jay, my film professor, is a really expansive personality, all about what's possible and what could be brought into being and how things should and could be if people wanted it badly enough to work for it; Dana, on the other hand, is grounded and pragmatic, pessimistic, always bringing things back down to earth with a thud. My imagination wants to follow Jay into the troposphere where that other world is, as they say, possible; but I also realize that Dana's blunt realism is a necessary influence. It's just that it always leaves me alternating between Jay's highs and Dana's lows, clear and idealistic one day, confused and adrift the next (but always with a lot more work to do.) Dana's the one who'll get me through this semester intact, but increasingly Jay's the one who's giving me a reason to do it.
Finally, it's only the third week in September and already these goddamn leaf-peepers are everywhere. You can tell 'em from a mile away, driving shiny sedans that no self-respecting Vermonter would ever drive, with their out-of-state plates, going 10 mph under the limit because the sharp curves and mountain roads intimidate them, and not a one of them under 50. The irony is that there's nothing to fucking look at yet; all the leaves are still green, people! Come back next month! Then you'll see something worth gaping at, but right now, as pretty as it is, you're wasting your time. This is the season when the dirt roads get the most use -- the peepers are too scared to venture down them, so they become the preferred path for the locals. It's like a continual slow-speed rally up and down the hills, tossing rocks under your wheels and feeling your teeth rattle when you go over washboards.
This is the best season in New England, in the too-brief period between the unpleasant mugginess of summer and the post-Thanksgiving onset of full-force winter; foliage season aside, autumn has everything going for it -- it's apple season, the weather is often mind-bogglingly perfect, the woods smell their best -- a cross between fresh green and early, sweet-smelling rot -- and everybody's eager to have one last big blow-out before the cold comes. It's warm enough to go out during the day and run around in shirtsleeves, but cool enough at night that snuggly fires are welcome. Harvest festivals only make sense when you've got real seasons, but then you really understand what they're all about.
I still have strong doubts about settling here, even just for a while -- the more I look around, the more I realize that this place has changed on a deeper level than I had thought, and that the changes aren't over yet. The hipster/artist community is already being chased away -- to settle here seems like a dead end. But it's nice to be able to be here for one more autumn. |