A Celluloid Being: Production Part II

This post is a continuation of ‘Production Part I.’ If you haven’t already read it, check it out at http://bit.ly/1yQ1kUp. This post will probably make more sense if you do, but it’s a free country, as they say! 

A Celluloid Being: Production Part I

I’m the short floating head. Isn’t it great how my black t-shirt blended in perfectly with the night? Even though I look pretty ridiculous, I love this picture. I love this picture because it represents the completion of two days that had caused me a great deal of stress for about four months. Yes, it’s true; I shot my movie! And it feels damn good. It’s like I’ve had to piss really badly and finally found a bathroom. 

A Celluloid Being: Big Dreams in a Teenage Mind

 

Sorry. This isn’t about my film because nothing has really progressed from the last post, but instead here is some background on myself as an artist.

Part I: In the Name of Love

I hate explaining how I fell in love with filmmaking. It makes me sound shallow. Unfortunately, for the purposes of this post I have to rehash the superiorly unremarkable way I discovered my life’s passion. 

A Celluloid Being: Nail Biting in a Tempest

First Semester, Fourth Year: Independent Project

At the beginning of this school year, I had long, beautiful nails. I was so happy that I finally kicked the habit of biting them (an oral fixation I’ve had ever since I can remember). I could finally paint them, shape them, open tricky plastic packaging with them, or scratch someone’s eyes out with them. I felt very mature –– a sophisticated lady with dainty fingers. Unfortunately, my nails are once again nubs and I can’t even remember how they reverted back this way. One day my nails were long and then they were bitten down into sad, rectangular (the horizontal being the longer sides) pieces of keratin.

I blame stress.

A Celluloid Being: THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS (A Sentient Teen)

My name is Maya. But a lot of people call me Mo. You’ll probably know me as a celluloid being. But when it comes down to it, what are names really? Just intangible tools of recognition. What is anything, really? We’re all just atoms buzzing around, making connections. What is the meaning of life? 42? Infinity? Zero?