The publisher has given us less than a week. I can’t think of anything that accurately describes my mental state, other than this exchange with A.:
MIT
Just got my evaluation from the media lit conference I attended in Philly this summer. Attendees to my session and film screening rated my presentation. And I did not screw up! My favorite part is “Audubon is easy to listen to.” So much more polite than saying, “Audubon is overly enthusiastic and never shuts up.” Woo!
Was at school til after midnight last night, trying to finish a quick concept video for the mobile app a bunch of us are working on. Here’s the idea (pardon the imperfections):
Tonight I attended a meeting of MIT Doc Makers, for documentary and other filmmakers at the Institute. We got to see a film made in five days last month by undergrads, largely freshmen, and most without any film experience. I thought they did a great job! And it does a good job of showing Boston, including many shots of my (former) street, Comm Ave. The admissions office even reposted it to show off life at MIT (as if undergrads actually cross the bridge into Boston, or have normal romantic relationships, or go to coffee shops). Still. Bask in the cuteness, my friends.
In the science writing & new media class I’m presently TA’ing, the students just presented their first assignment: an edited audio essay on any topic/theme. One group of students decided to have people read the same poem in different languages, editing the layers on top of one another. A member of this group chose the following poem, because he loved its hopefulness and the history behind its conception. He’s a nice kid, a large and outgoing guy who, at a young age, has already traveled “to every continent except Antartica.” I wish I could post the audio piece here, but I don’t have permission and am too lazy to get it. But the way he read the poem was strong and honest and heartfelt; read this with a Greek accent and perhaps you’ll get a sense of what I heard today.
INVICTUS – by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
In case you are dying to know what I talked about…