I've never been so frustrated in my life. And that is saying a lot -- I once threw salt in my best friend's eyes because I was confused about a riddle he was telling me. That's true, you can ask him. But right now, the source of my angst isn't riddles or the sneaky jerks who tell them -- it is my intro to film class. It is my first fine arts class, and as a second semester senior, the prospect seemed like a good one. Pass/fail grading, no tests, just making movies. Awesome, right? Wrong. Nothing puts you in your place more than saying, "Lights, Camera, Action!" only to realize your lights aren't bright enough, your camera's lens cap is still on and you're speaking to a toaster.
The problem isn't so much my lack of talent, although that is part of it. Most of my movies make no sense at all, but not in that cool, old Jackie Chan movie kind of way -- more like in the crappy Fast and the Furious kind of way: bad editing, total lack of theme and tons of plot-holes. No, the worst part is the lack of support. I am beginning to get the feeling that my professor doesn't like me.
My friend and I first joined this class for the purpose of making hilarious movies and earning credit for them. It has since become a constant struggle for our prof's approval. We went to an anime festival she suggested the class go to, but we got no recognition. We saw a movie preview she told us about; still nothing improved. We even went so far as making a movie last week and entering it in a contest at the ICA that she goes to every year. She hated it. It is obvious to me now that my friend and I may never win her approval, let alone a date with her.
It's not that I have an Asian fetish. I mean, my girlfriend is Chinese and my professor is Japanese, but it isn't like that. They both happen to be talented and beautiful women; it has nothing to do with their race. They could be from Belarus for all I care. The point is I like women. I might not be the most ideal catch. I don't exactly have the physique of Brad Pitt; I might not be as cool as Johnny Depp, or hung like Ron Jeremy. In fact, it's more like I have the physique of Ron Jeremy, I'm as cool as ... Ok, I am as cool as Johnny Depp, but I'm hung like a field mouse. Still, a man can dream can't he? My professor and I will continue our game of cat and mouse (I guess I'm the mouse ... I'm so depressed), and maybe one day she, like my girlfriend, will be able to look past my obvious deficiencies as a male and into my heart, where it counts.
Scott Haller is a senior Management & Marketing concentrator from Ann Arbor, MI. His e-mail address is Scottfhawharton.upenn.edu. Pancakes to Celebrate appears on alternating Thursdays.
