story, my four-year-old will covet her big sisterâs training-wheel-equipped bicycle while she sits on her tiny tricycle. Then, during a nap, my four-year-old will dream about the bike and ride it through a grassy suburban park. I know my four-year-old will light up the screen with her big grin.
Every camera partnership has to decide how to split up the camera for the three-day weekend: My partners agree I will take the camera first, shoot my film Saturday morning, then drive the camera back to USC for a handoff Saturday afternoon to Shorav, the PhD student from India. He will shoot Sunday, and then Fee Fee will have the camera all day Monday. The school-owned Sony is in a protective plastic case the size of an airline carry-on bag. We are also sharing a heavy-duty tripod, which also comes in a rather large carrying bag. Together, they weigh about twenty pounds. I carry a bicycle messenger bag with my laptop and class books and legal pads. It weighs another fifteen pounds, at least.
After class, I carry all of it to my car, parked on the fifth floor of the Shrine Auditorium ramp. Itâs another hot day. I walk up the parking lot steps, carrying some forty pounds of gear. My clothes are too warm. The Shrine has a big rampâthe place used to be home to the Academy Awards and still gets used for events like the Screen Actors Guild Awards. I finally get to my car. Iâm sweaty.
As I stand next to my car, taking in the view of campus from the parking deck, I realize Iâm a real film student, finally. I am one of those people who walk the sidewalks of USC towing heavy cases of film equipment behind them.
I am a film student. Suddenly, I feel a wave of excitement pass through me. Itâs taken nearly two years of planning and applications to get to this point, and here I am, putting film equipment into the trunk of my Oldsmobile.
I admire how professional my equipment looks. Itâs all stamped with U-S-C, and both camera and tripod look as if theyâve been on a hundred shoots. I actually dance a little jig in the quiet parking ramp, Iâm so dang happy.
Iâm also exceedingly thirsty! All day Iâve been walking, walking, walking, and sometimes racing to get to classes on time. In the trunk of my car, I have a quart of apple juice and a few bottles of water. Itâs been a long day and a long week. I love apple juice. I drink the whole bottle. I load the equipment in and take a breather. My legs are tired, and it seems Iâve walked a hundred miles during the first week around campus.
I inspect the camera one more time: itâs heftier than a standard consumer video camera, and Iâve got an extra lens and a charger in the eggshell-foam-lined case. I get in my car and slowly circle down to the ground floor.
Then my stomach takes a jump. I realize the quart of apple juice is not settling well. Not well at all. I realize I have a problem.
I park illegally outside the Zemeckis building and waddle past the front desk attendant. I cross my fingers that a bathroom is availableâone is!âand close the door as fast as I can. I have a massive attack of diarrhea. As my guts contract and my forehead sweats, I worry if Iâll get a parking ticket and I worry if Iâll be able to navigate the freeways without soiling my pants and I wonder how my kids are and how Julie is and I realize on this day I paid another $200 of money I donât have to go to class with a bunch of people half my age.
I calculate between cramps that itâs costing me five dollars of tuition money just to sit in this lonely bathroom stall.
T
rying to measure the importance of moving pictures on our society objectively is impossible. Their influence on pop culture dwarfs their economic value. For example, I once wrote speeches for executives at Cargill, the largest privately held corporation in the United States. Cargillâs yearly revenues now hover in the $120 billion range. By comparison, total
Every camera partnership has to decide how to split up the camera for the three-day weekend: My partners agree I will take the camera first, shoot my film Saturday morning, then drive the camera back to USC for a handoff Saturday afternoon to Shorav, the PhD student from India. He will shoot Sunday, and then Fee Fee will have the camera all day Monday. The school-owned Sony is in a protective plastic case the size of an airline carry-on bag. We are also sharing a heavy-duty tripod, which also comes in a rather large carrying bag. Together, they weigh about twenty pounds. I carry a bicycle messenger bag with my laptop and class books and legal pads. It weighs another fifteen pounds, at least.
After class, I carry all of it to my car, parked on the fifth floor of the Shrine Auditorium ramp. Itâs another hot day. I walk up the parking lot steps, carrying some forty pounds of gear. My clothes are too warm. The Shrine has a big rampâthe place used to be home to the Academy Awards and still gets used for events like the Screen Actors Guild Awards. I finally get to my car. Iâm sweaty.
As I stand next to my car, taking in the view of campus from the parking deck, I realize Iâm a real film student, finally. I am one of those people who walk the sidewalks of USC towing heavy cases of film equipment behind them.
I am a film student. Suddenly, I feel a wave of excitement pass through me. Itâs taken nearly two years of planning and applications to get to this point, and here I am, putting film equipment into the trunk of my Oldsmobile.
I admire how professional my equipment looks. Itâs all stamped with U-S-C, and both camera and tripod look as if theyâve been on a hundred shoots. I actually dance a little jig in the quiet parking ramp, Iâm so dang happy.
Iâm also exceedingly thirsty! All day Iâve been walking, walking, walking, and sometimes racing to get to classes on time. In the trunk of my car, I have a quart of apple juice and a few bottles of water. Itâs been a long day and a long week. I love apple juice. I drink the whole bottle. I load the equipment in and take a breather. My legs are tired, and it seems Iâve walked a hundred miles during the first week around campus.
I inspect the camera one more time: itâs heftier than a standard consumer video camera, and Iâve got an extra lens and a charger in the eggshell-foam-lined case. I get in my car and slowly circle down to the ground floor.
Then my stomach takes a jump. I realize the quart of apple juice is not settling well. Not well at all. I realize I have a problem.
I park illegally outside the Zemeckis building and waddle past the front desk attendant. I cross my fingers that a bathroom is availableâone is!âand close the door as fast as I can. I have a massive attack of diarrhea. As my guts contract and my forehead sweats, I worry if Iâll get a parking ticket and I worry if Iâll be able to navigate the freeways without soiling my pants and I wonder how my kids are and how Julie is and I realize on this day I paid another $200 of money I donât have to go to class with a bunch of people half my age.
I calculate between cramps that itâs costing me five dollars of tuition money just to sit in this lonely bathroom stall.
T
rying to measure the importance of moving pictures on our society objectively is impossible. Their influence on pop culture dwarfs their economic value. For example, I once wrote speeches for executives at Cargill, the largest privately held corporation in the United States. Cargillâs yearly revenues now hover in the $120 billion range. By comparison, total
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