10 posts tagged “nyu”

Uh oh. It's been awhile, hasn't it?  I guess that's what happens when you go on vacation and come back the busiest, most frantic time frame of the school year.  Ah yes, the dreaded time after spring break and before graduation.  What a horrible space in time to occupy.

At present, I'm metaphorically dying.  Those 21 credit hours have come in to full swing and are effectively kicking my ass.  Tech week all this week and all next week for the Festival of New Works is ruining my life. Any free time I once had is gone, and I won't have it back until halfway through April. If I'm lucky.

In the mean time, I dream of Mexico. Not Cancun as most of my demographic would, rather the Valleys of Oaxaco and Mexico, Teotihuacan, and Tenochtitlan. I think about Mount Aconcagua and the Andes.  In the past week or two, I've decided full on that I want to do mesoamerican archaeology.  I suppose I can relate better to the dead than the living, for what specific reasons I'm unsure.  Though were I to pursuit the ethnographer's life, I'd just as well as go to Yemen as Panama.  The ethnography on Zibad I'm reading this week I find to be much more interesting than Myerhoff's foray into Venice Beach.  I like to think outside myself, beyond myself when it comes to other people.

I find it a little troubling that lately, I've been incredibly excited about my anthropological work, and yet hardly a din about my writing.  I'm sure my parents will be thrilled; NYU isn't cheap, and it's not the school you go to flander about changing majors and focuses eight times.  I came here with a purpose, but things seem to be changing.

Perhaps this is due to my shift into playwriting. Our concentration intentions are due in a few weeks, and lately I've been leading towards playwriting.  An unusual turn of events seeing as I've always been hell bent on screenwriting.  And yet, lately the medium has felt to constricting.

I realized today that the screenplay I was writing last semester was actually a play.  I had this realization while in Chipotle (I'm there a lot since I'm doing my fieldwork there), and Luke and Sara, who've been with me all year, looked at me when I announced this epiphany and said "Damn."  It's a play.  It's a goddamn play.  No wonder it felt all wrong when I was writing it.

My world is shifting.  I'm ready for spring.

Taking a 21 credit hour load on is a little more than challenging, especially when the university decries you can only take 20 credit hours maximum.  Got to love a department that lets you use last semesters credits this semester by either fudging their records or fucking you over last semester (what happened to me).

But strangely, I'm finding this semester to be a lot more comfortable. Last semester, with only 15 credit hours, was hell. And yet now that I should be incredibly over worked and dying, I'm finding myself working at a calm pace. I'm used to this. The amount of work I'm doing now is the amount I did in fancy pants high school. Somehow I'm capable at operating at this speed and this speed only.

We're reading Marcel Mauss' The Gift in my cultural survey class. Interesting little out of print book. It makes me think of my sister.  I doubt it's the sort of book they make you read at the University of Chicago's economics department, or the sort of thing she'd bother with now that she's all grown up. I mean, a cultural analysis? Practically a curse word in her world. And yet this book is all about economics and gift culture and why nothing is free, and when things are free, people kind of resent them.

I love this class. We're doing field research in it and I'm looking forward to my Coney Island project. I'm a little nervous to be talking to the likes of Dirk Zigun though. Then again, I also was nervous to be taking classes with the guy who named the Notorious BIG and now I call him Richard and give him high fives.

I'm trying to be a better friend this semester.  I'd say I've been doing pretty well seeing as I've been seeing Pam and Sara more often. Adrian too. And I've gotten a lot better about being too clingy to the boyfriend.

For the longest time, I swore I would study film production in college. Even as a took college level courses in high school, spearheaded a new major in film at Interlochen, and spent time at intensive programs, I was ardent that I would major in film.

Now here I am at college. A year and a half into it no less, studying dramatic writing at the hands down best university to do so, with a much more publicized film major. I regularly ride the elevator with Spike Lee, for fucks sake. And yet, I officially made the decision today to never pursuit that major here, despite the opportunity, the offering, the everything.

I've decided it's a very stupid thing to major in. Yes, studying film at NYU, USC, or UT might give you hands on experience, but as the more I think about it, the more I reflect on my past, they're pulling the wool over your eyes. They're making you pay (hundreds of thousands of dollars, no less) for hands on experience that should, and can be free. And there are several instances where all that money is wasted, because so many NYU grads end up working their way up the ladder from the very beginning, just like all those kids who didn't go to film school.

It makes sense to do it in high school if you have the opportunities and aren't really paying for it. Or if you're at a private institution like I was, and are already getting a quality education on something else. But to specifically pay someone to give you that training in college is bullshit. By then, you're already old enough to be working low ranking industry jobs, getting paid (albeit shitty) for pretty much the same thing. In fact, working on a real set is a much better education than what you get here. The only advantage here is the networking you can do. But really, that's something that is useful but not necessary.

I don't even want to go into big budget filmmaking, with huge crews. I'm not going to need that network, though I do already have quite a large one from my own department. And I don't need NYU film students wasting my time on all that. I, frankly, have better things to do.

I think I'll be much more successful in life if I take a more academic route to my artistic values. I want to make documentaries. I don't need another BFA to do that. Holding two BFAs is even more worthless than holding one, because that second one was a waste of your time. It makes much more sense and is a much smarter move to study Anthropology.

Why? Because while all those future-documentarians spent their time in film classes, I was learning the language of the subject medium. And I can still work my way around a camera. If Person A can operate a camera, and Person B can do it just as well, as well as understand what is going on and why......who's going to win?

I am.

As it turns out, Vox is a good way to make connections.  As it would be, Charline is thinking of attending not only NYU, but my very specific-specific department. What are the odds for a random exploration for one like myself to come across such a person as herself.

So here we are, a Tisch sophomore and a Tisch perspective. I promised to write about my experience here in the Department of Dramatic Writing, and now that is here, too.

Where to begin?  Going to Tisch is among some of the best choices I've made in my life. It's right up there with my decision to leave the public education system in favor of Interlochen Arts Academy and every choice I've made that has resulted in me eating a Rice Krispy Treat.

The people you will meet here are incredible. At least, the ones you will end up forming friendships with. Everyone else will more than likely be an asshole who you feel has questionable morals and social values. But that's just how it goes. Those that you click with...they will save your life.

Classes are wonderful, except when they are terrible. As a Dramatic Writer, you get not one but two semester of Writing the Essay.  This is the class we get to take to listen to egotistic professors muse about art, and then write essays on art.  It's bullshit, and a complete and utter waste of time, (there were only two lectures all year that I felt were worth it).  You have to do it though; they don't waive it, no matter how many AP courses you've taken or how many college level essay courses you've had.  It sucks, but it's just a year, and it helps you meet people with whom to commiserate with.

We're also the only department in Tisch that has to take any of the Morse Academic Plan (MAP). That means Conwest and World Cultures. Conwest is almost never good, though world cultures depends on the topic.  But again, this is just a year of classes.

It's the writing classes that matter. Freshman year is Craft of Visual & Dramatic Writing I & II, Colloquium, and Forms of Drama I & II. They are the best intro courses I've ever taken. Forms of Drama is reading plays, seeing plays (for free!) and talking about plays. I had both Carol Rocomora (fantastic woman) and Martin Epstein (also amazing). Between them, I saw The Threepenny Opera (with Alan Cumming and Cyndi Lauper!), Robert Moss's rendition of Peer Gynt, Hedda Gabbler (with Cate Blanchet), the best performance of Hamlet I've ever seen, A Soldier's Play (with Taye Diggs), A Touch of the Poet, and several less recognizable titles.

Craft is the writing class you take. My experience is with Mary Gallagher. Its playwriting, its screenwriting, its story work, and story analysis. We watched a lot of good movies and saw some great plays (including a production of Balm in Gilead which transformed my idea of what a play is). We saw a lot more off-broadway shows here, all of them amazing. We saw Lemkin's House and Cataract (both amazing!) if you keep track of the off-broadways.

That's the great thing about the Dramatic Writing Department: they do an excellent job of exposing you to the art form.  They show you everything you thought they would, and then they show you four times as much stuff you'd never have expected. The DW also has many connections with theater companies all over the place, so we get lots of tickets for super cheap ($5 cheap or free). This is probably the single most wonderful thing about this whole experience. Even poor students (like me) in our department can go to all the shows. Who'd have thought that a poor college student like me would be in the front row for Christopher Durang's Miss Witherspoon?

The instruction on writing is also up to par. I've never felt dissatisfied with my classes. We workshop, workshop, workshop, and then workshop some more. There are always going to be students who are wasting everyone's time, but most of the people here get what's going on. The assholes in our department are the worst though. Very smarmy and very "holier than thou."  None of them can write.

The good by far outweighs the bad though. I've felt nothing but support from my peers and my professors. And nobody gets upset if you disagree with them, either. And after the first month or two, most people know how to give constructive criticism and most aren't afraid of hurting peoples feelings anymore.

Writing's a battle though. Everyone gets frustrated, and wants to scrap their scripts at some point, but that brings the department closer. We're all struggling together and we have one of the tightest knit departments on campus. I really like this aspect. We're all friends and we're always willing to give a hug when its needed, and a glass of Bailey's when that's needed, too.

Ah yes, the other part of college. We drink, we do drugs, we have sex, and it's smashing. A lot of the department is in to these things, but those that aren't are not pressured by the others. And that's certainly not all we do either.  I myself  don't drink much, a lot of my friends do, and it's not a big deal.

College is what you make of it. Some are good for some people, but not for others. It's really up to you to decide.  Personally, despite all my bitching, I love it here. I'd be miserable anywhere else, and that's just how it is.

PS,  we also have really sweet dorm rooms. (I'll let you decide which half is mine)

I'm supposed to be writing my screenplay right now.  I just finished my term paper comparing Kierkegaard to Mary Shelley. Probably one of the stupidest papers I've had to write in my life.  But now it's supposed to be screenplay time, but I just can't sit down and do it.  I'm something like 10 pages behind everyone else, and I need about 30 more pages in two weeks.  I can probably get away with 25, but still.

I just feel so burnt out. Here I am at nineteen and in the fifth or sixth year of intense creative writing instruction.  I'm so tired all the time, and I never want to write anymore.  Which is strange, since all my life I've been working towards the point where that's all I have to.  Beyond my anthropology courses next semester, writing is all I'm doing, and theater related things.

I'm studying abroad in Ghana in a year. That's my little semester long writing break. I thought I could hold out to year seven, but it seems so hard right now.  I keep sleeping past two, and stay up all night watching movies and playing video games.  Last night it was Super Size Me, the night before: Batman and The Mask of the Phantasm. I'm such a bum.

This is what I want to do. Forever.  Why can't I just do it?  I'm sick of being in school.  College is still a hoax; I'm not learning anything new. It's all fine tuning, which is annoying when everyone else is still learning the foundation.

I'm back in the Midwest for the holiday, and I feel very antsy. Not that haven't been feeling antsy in New York, but now this energy feels unwarranted. I have all this energy balled up inside me, and I feel like I should be flying through all the things I want to do at a million miles a minute, and instead, I sit. And panic.

I'm taking 21 credit hours next semester due to Festival Practicum horrendousness. I was supposed to put in my hours this semester, but due to the professor not even knowing I'm in the class, I have to do them next semester. So I'm getting an incomplete. Which I'm not worried about, just 21 credit hours is a lot, and NYU has a maximum cap at 20. Eek. But this also means I'm only taking 15 credits this semester, which just feels lazy.

I need next semester though. After the Dell disaster and the laziness, and the frustration, I desperately need something different. In a year, I'll be a six or seven weeks away from Ghana. This is probably the most comforting news I have. Next semester heralds Playwriting I, Archaeology, Human Society and Cultures, Fundamentals of Theatre Arts, The Hollywood Remake, and Festival Practicum. Jam packed.

Until then, I'm waiting. This fall has left me feeling stuck, and bored. I'm not making any progress in anything, except perhaps on my screenplay. That's iffy though. I'm just ready to get on with it, already.

A quick photo of what I see out my window.  It's a crappy quick photo with blow out, but it does demonstrate that good views from second floor apartments in New York City do exist!  The very center, top thing that's blown out in the blown out sky is the top of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Yes, it's true, I live in a second floor studio now in the Financial District, across the street from the South Street Seaport.  My apartment is huge though, almost 350 square feet for my roommate and I.  The Boyfriend, who lives on Union Square has probably 250 square feet for four people. The six of us pay the exact same rent after splitting it up, so I think we got the better the deal.  The only bad thing is we're half an hour away from classes and they are 15 minutes.

I moved in exactly a week ago, but I still have some unpacking to do. That's kind of shitty of me since The Roommate, who movied in the day before I did, was finished by the time I showed up.  I should get on that, but I have to put together something real quick while store I still open, then head up to Union Square.

Today was my official last day of work.  All in all, I had a very nice time working at the school district; it wasn't terribly difficult and all the people were very nice.  We ate icecream cake to celebrate my summer efforts and my moving back to New York City.  The ladies also got me a Starbucks card worth a pretty penny, which was awfully nice of them.  I always feel a little awkward receiving gifts like that, but I think I handled it semi-gracefully.

And now I'm counting the days until I get to return to my beloved New York City. As of right now, I leave in 10 (soon to be 9) days.  I move into my Financial District apartment a week from Monday, then classes start the following week on Tuesday.  That's when my life will return to normal.  I'll be back with The Boyfriend, and The Gay Boyfriend, and The Roommate.  And I'll be back doing what I want to be doing

Hopefully, though, I will not be returning to this--the graduate strike.  Supposedly they came to a semi-agreement over the summer, but I highly doubt it will last, if it even did anything at all.

I just think the whole thing is silly.  NYU should pay their graduate students what they were paying them before Georgie busted their union.  And the graduate students should stop hurting the undergrads.  In fact, everyone should just realize that the only people getting hurt in the whole thing is us.  The grads are still being paid, their classes aren't being taught, and the NYU is refusing to negotiate.

Eh, I wouldn't mind not having to go to my ConWest class though.  I was pretty pleased when Writing the Essay was cancelled just about every other class.  I just feel bad for the people who had all their classes cancelled or moved.  Since it was just the College of Arts and Sciences that was effected, as a Tisch student I was minimally bothered.

I just want to go the park and sit in the fountain before they tear it out.  I wish they wouldn't.

When a lot of people hear I attended boarding school for three years, they always become shocked and tell me they're sorry.  It's pretty much a given here in the midwest that the only reason you go to boarding school is because your parents make you.  And the kids usually end up at religious schools, or reform schools, not Exeter like my soon-to-be roommate.  Nor is it expected that one would end up a world reknown art school like I did.

I made the decision when I was 13 that my education was only being hindered by staying in public school.  I was routinely singled out by students and faculty alike and discriminated against because I did not come in the package they wanted me to be in.  I forced my way into the only honors class (english) offered for freshman at my high school and was sabotaged by my teacher.  I was forced to take 5 hour partner tests by myself and in an hour after school.  I was not allowed to sit at tables with other students because I was cheating (I wasn't), and papers with my name on them were automatically graded down.  As an experiment, a friend and I traded papers.  Her paper (that I wrote) got an A, while the one with mine on it recieved the standard B-.

The only reason why I was still in the district that year was because my eigth grade teachers refused to write my recommendations for private schools.  Those that did agree wrote scathing letters that warned of non-existant behavioral problems, the bad grades I wasn't getting, and the outright opposition to authority I didn't have (until then, that is).

I had a very excellent Latin teacher who believed in me, though, and she personally made sure my english teacher wrote a truthful  recommendation since I had to have one for her.  I was accepted into Interlochen Arts Academy and was off at fifteen. 

But this isn't a story about my time at Interlochen.  I know, it seems like it should be, but I often ramble and get off track.  This is really about summer.

Here I am at nineteen, a month away from my sophomore year at New York University, and I feel stuck.  All of my college friends are happy to be at home, have the break from a rigorous schedule, but this is my fourth summer.  I have a full time job for the summer, but it seems irrelevant to what I'm doing.

I'm ready to be a human being, thank you very much.  For four years I've been going through the routine of strenuous art classes and college level academics. Dare I say that my year at college was much easier than my high school years?  I practically sleep-walked through the whole thing, waiting for my classmates to catch up to where I was while all I did was review.  The core classes I had to take I'd already covered my junior year of high school.  My major classes were rehashings of my three years at Interlochen.  I'm ready to move on already.

It's more bearable during the school year when I have the entirity of New York City to entertain me, but in the midwest, it's excruciating.  And I'm very frustrated because I've been passed over for jobs back in New York in my field that I was more than capable and qualified of doing just because I was eighteen/nineteen and in college.

I hate summer.  I hate this respite from the intensity of my work.  I can't do what I love here because it stifles me to death.  My hometown sucks the life out of me.