There was some filming on campus today. So for a day CSUN was turned into San Bernardino Junior College. Someone told me that SBJC is an actual place, but I Googled it and found no such place. Duh Eric, it's fictitious. Still, the following sign really makes me think that there REALLY is a San Bernardino Junior College. This week I've witnessed two such filming productions. One was Downtown on 7th street this Saturday. It's pretty cool to watch the behind the scenes stuff. My favorite is watching the extras walk across the scene to really sell the fact that this is "real life" being filmed. I don't know the girl's name on the far right, but she was totally gorgeous. Duh, she's in the movies, you have to look completely gorgeous if you're in the movies. Right? Watching movie making is often much more fun than watching the crappy results on the screen. I'm sure this movie is the next Citizen Kane, or not. I was super sleepy today because I sat up half the night talking to Angelica Charla. Stayed up until 3 a.m. this morning to be exact. Which is totally crazy because I had to wake up this morning at 5:30 a.m.; which I amazingly did. Also amazing is that I wasn't falling asleep in any of my classes, which would have been completely rude. I told myself that if I felt like I was going to start sleeping in my classes that I would just go to my car and sleep it off. Course, for me these little catnaps do more harm than good. Shortly after the nap I feel more tired because it's not a whole night's rest. So during my lunch break I walked to the art gallery, in order to stimulate my mind. I so didn't want to fall asleep during my break. The gallery had some pretty cool stuff. One particular piece was super cool, and I was just about to take a photograph when I thought better of it. I didn't want to get caught taking pictures of things. I'm sure they think that I'm going to recreate it somehow. All I'd do is just post it here so you all could see it. But, I guess that sucks, so that's why I didn't take a picture of that piece. It was pretty cool though. Because the filming was being done right in front of my favorite patch of grass, which I sit on during most of my lunch breaks, I decided to just sit outside the gallery and rest my head. Here's me resting my head, and putting my feet up. When I nearly started to fall asleep I got up and tried to write. I only got about a page into some scribbling when Graf�a Tierra del Sol walked by and tapped me on the shoulder. Oh, she's a new name here huh. Graf�a Tierra del Sol is my photography professor. I'm going to vent for a second, because something that happens in her class pisses me off. People don't participate in the general discussion. I think that people fear that they will sound like idiots because they're not art history majors, and can't explain how a photograph, or painting, makes them feel. I admit, it's super hard to put into words the way I feel when I see one of my most favorite photographs ever, "Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico" by Ansel Adams (below). I'm a writer; my job is to put into words that which has no words to describe it. But even I get lost in such beauty. I actually got to see this particular print in person when the local county museum of art had an Adam's exhibit. The way I felt when I walked up to this picture can only be described as walking to Mecca. The picture represents a perfect moment to me. The kind of picture I always strive to achieve. But I digress because my point is that so many people piss me off because they don't show up to class because they think it's a "throw-away" class, and they rather sleep in. Hey, I love to sleep in more than anyone, but when I sign up for something I like to be there on time. Rain or shine, sick or healthy, I'm going to be there because it's a commitment I made. I guess these days commitments don't mean as much as they used to. Oh well, I gotta be me and keep showing up to class and resenting those that choose not to show up but once every other week. OK, that's enough for now. There's more going on but I'm SUPER sleepy. |