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fear

Insight or Something Less

This isn’t all that short, much less “Damn Short,” but seeing as I’ve been neglecting this site for just over a year now, it’s high time I went ahead and put something up. This story was inspired by a scenario last year, when I was fortunate enough to be interviewed for a possible student position at the prestigious UCLA school of film. I didn’t get in, unfortunately, but the experience of the interview–which, by the way, was pretty much nothing like anyone who explained the process to me said it would be like–inspired this story. I’d originally planned to submit it along with an all new application for the 2012 school year, but owing to various circumstances including a change of requirements for admission, that clearly wasn’t going to happen. So instead I’m regrouping, planning to apply again for the 2013 school year, and working toward some further study that I hope will help improve my writing. Practice, practice, practice, as they say.

 

Insight or Something Less

Robert’s head swam through the murky haze of half-consciousness, eyes bleary and watering as a harsh light burned someplace just out of comprehension’s reach. His heart struck his rib cage with the thundering rhythm of some tribal drummer, wailing furiously against some veiled threat, some outside force he couldn’t see clearly. He squinted and tried to focus, straining against the rubber-like bounce of his neck, starting briefly as an image, a silhouette began to form just out of reach: three heads behind what seemed to be a table.

“What’s the rest of the story?” a voice asked, followed by another. “Tell us what happens next, Alex. What happens next?” Robert’s senses flared to life, aware but afraid; the bright lights and hydra-like triple man warbled in his eyesight and finally began to focus. “Where was I?” he asked, his voice trembling as he struggled to remember, to think of the details he should have known but which were lost in a moment of intellectual paralysis. So close to where I want to be, he thought, how do I get there?

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Why do people fear the truth?

It’s a serious question, and one I’d like a serious answer to, if there is one to be had. The scenario that has brought this to mind is simply this: when someone dies, those who remain behind often choose to believe the most absurdly positive things about the person who passed away even though there is no truth attached to that belief.

Case in point: my father recently passed away, and I blogged about it here and here, in that order, prior to the launch of this site (all my personal blogs will go here from now on, FYI, but if you’re interested in working on animated short films or XNA based game projects, by all means join UBS and drop me a line), and I’m told that certain people have issues with the things I’ve said. For clarity’s sake, I’m getting this second hand, so I don’t know all the details, but suffice to say, the claim has been made that what I said in those posts was untrue. Unfortunately, not one word of of it is untrue, though I wish more than anyone else that the truth were something other than what it is and/or was.

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