Class let out early so I managed to get home before nine o clock at night, which was good because my energy ran out at eight thirty. It was the kind of low energy that makes you want to go get a drink and pretend like the wash of emotions are not about to pour over you in a huge tidal wave coming in on an overdue tide.

I’m finally beginning to realize why the first semester of the program is so difficult: being bombarded with notes about your work is hard- and it doesn’t matter if they’re good notes or bad notes or whether they are notes that you can do anything about, it is still hard to stand alone I front of a room and have all your weak points found and commented upon. Some that you didn’t even think were weak. I think maybe that’s even harder- when you show something that you’re proud of and have people pull it apart. I take better notes (or, at least, I take notes better) when I’m not already happy with the work.

It’s one of those cognitive paradoxes: I have to simultaneously be humble and believe that I don’t know any better than anyone else because I’m not in the audience, yet at the same time have the conviction to believe that I do know better and that’s why I’m the one telling the story. It’s a Schroedinger mindset. I haven’t quite mastered it yet.

But that’s film school, and that was my last class (officially speaking) so from now on my lessons are going to be coming from the real world, for better or for worse.


~ by Gwydhar Gebien on April 26, 2016.

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