It was Tuesday, and we were sitting in American Lit class, my best friend and me. Occupying our usual seats in adjacent desks on the left side of the large classroom, near the front. Usually she made it to the classroom before I did, was sitting there waiting; and we would chat before class.
At about 9:29 am, Professor Ann Winters walked into the room, holding some highly-anticipated documents: our graded papers. Our assignment had been to write papers on the role of family in one of the short stories we had read early in the semester. Lana and I had each decided, independently, to write about "The Revolt of 'Mother'" by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman. We had gathered sources, written, rewritten, had writing conferences with Ms. Winters, and finally turned in our final copies to her. Now anxiously we awaited the verdict, the grade, the pronouncement of doom.
The good professor began to walk around the room, distributing graded papers to various students. She handed Lana's paper to her; my best friend flipped through it till she could see the grade, and immediately burst into tears. Oh no.
Her paper had received a grade of 69. Not because of the quality of the writing, but because of a technicality on sources. Ms. Winters had told us earlier in the semester that in order to make a C or higher on the paper, we had to exactly follow the rules on how many sources were in our paper.
Lana had been unsure of whether her secondary sources qualified to meet the rules. But since she had met with Mrs. Winters to look at the paper, and Mrs. Winters hadn't said anything about the sources, Lana assumed they were fine.
She was wrong. And she didn't make a C or higher on the paper. And now she was crying, and asking Mrs. Winters why she had received this grade.
The professor didn't budge. She told Lana that the guidelines for sources had been clearly laid out on our assignment sheet. However, she said, she was willing to let Lana fix the sources and turn in the paper again for a new grade; Lana's final grade for the paper would then be a composite of the old grade and the new.
It was a merciful deal, on the whole, but Lana's poor grade had wounded her. She wept off and on throughout the entire class. Once or twice she looked over at me, but I had no words for her. Even with Ms. Winters' willingness to regrade the paper, Lana's grade wouldn't be as high as it should have been.
The class discussion covered a couple of poems by Robert Frost: "Design" and "Out, Out --". My notes only show the rhyme scheme of the poems, though I'm certain we discussed them much more deeply. I tried to pay attention, but I was mostly focusing on my friend and how bad I felt for her.
At the end of class, we gathered our backpacks and walked out of the Holt building, heading for our next class in the Gardner building. Beginning to cry again, Lana talked about how she felt betrayed by Mrs. Winters. I wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her, to make her feel better. All I could do was listen, and sympathize.
Now we were sitting in the Gardner lecture hall, with about ten minutes till the American Revolution class started. Lana was still trying to control her tears. I glanced over at her, then looked away again.
And at that moment I fell in love with my best friend. Emotions I had never felt before began to sweep over me. I looked at her and knew that now, in this moment, I loved her as I had never loved her before, as I would never love anyone else. While she cried over her grade, while I sat in silence, I knew that I had irrevocably crossed a line.
From the very first summer I met Lana (2003), I had prayed about her as a prospect for marriage. I was careful as I prayed, never assuming what was God's will, pleading with Him to show me one way or the other and to allow me to keep my heart undefiled. He didn't show me, not for a long, long time. I became Lana's friend, and then her close friend, and then her best friend, and all the while I grew increasingly more attracted to her. But my heart was still mine; I had not given any part of it to her.
Now it was all hers. And for the first time I allowed myself to feel the feelings that I had shunned for so long. I knew that God had at last revealed His answer to me, had shown me that this crying young woman beside me was to be my bride. And I loved her.
In class that day, Dr. Robert Willoughby lectured on the American-British standoff at Boston in 1775, after the Battle of Bunker Hill. His lecture, as always, was engrossing and enlightening; I took diligent, copious notes, but my mind was rather elsewhere.
And Lana Marie had no idea, would have no idea for nearly six months. We grew even closer as friends, and spent a lot more time in class together, and worked on a movie together, and prayed for each other. She thought that perhaps someday I would ask to court her. Someday, some far-off time in the future. Maybe.
And she didn't know, not till a candle-lit evening in August, that I was madly in love with her, a passion both utterly secret and wholly pure.
It was February 27, 2007. One year ago today.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
People
Just a quick post for now as I need to hit the hay pretty soon.
My birthday on Thursday was flippin' awesome. Hope to have more about that in the next day or two...
It is absolutely unreal to be well into the double digits of the countdown to my wedding. Today it's been two months since I dropped to my knee and gave my girl a ring and could officially call myself her fiance. In another three months, we'll already be married. Wow...
I praise God for the life He has given me. It's often a struggle, often painful, but it's just so...abundant, I guess, is a good word. Most often I see how abundant it is in the people God has put in my life. I have my darling fiancee, my immediate family, her immediate family, church family, homeschoolers...it's just so cool.
God is starting to pound into my head that people are what matter most on this earth. The people I love dearly, the people I walk past at school, the people I see in church when I'm leading worship. Every one of them is made in the image of God, every one has a story, every one has a purpose. Jesus died to save every one of them. He knows the plans He has for them, plans to prosper them and not to harm them, plans to give them a future and a hope.
People like James T. from church and Bob my former Theater prof and Austin from Riverwalk and Gary who lives across the street and Ryan my cousin and Andria my supervisor at work. They all matter so much to the heart of God. And my life has made an impact on each of theirs, in radically different ways, in ways that I'll never comprehend. And I've impacted thousands of others.
And I continue to have influence, I continue to make a difference, for better or for worse, in the lives of so many people around me -- the ones who mean the most to me, and the ones I'll never meet.
But I don't want to focus on that; talk about the pressure that would ensue! My focus should all be on the one who created this universe and this tiny earth and all the eternal souls that dwell therein. And then He came into His creation, coming not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.
He's the One pulling the strings; He commands the breadth of my influence. All good comes from Him, and thus it is not merely immoral but useless to point my focus anywhere else. He will change the hearts of people. He emptied Himself for them, suffered the ultimate sacrifice that they might be set free.
May the same mind be in me that was also in Him.
My birthday on Thursday was flippin' awesome. Hope to have more about that in the next day or two...
It is absolutely unreal to be well into the double digits of the countdown to my wedding. Today it's been two months since I dropped to my knee and gave my girl a ring and could officially call myself her fiance. In another three months, we'll already be married. Wow...
I praise God for the life He has given me. It's often a struggle, often painful, but it's just so...abundant, I guess, is a good word. Most often I see how abundant it is in the people God has put in my life. I have my darling fiancee, my immediate family, her immediate family, church family, homeschoolers...it's just so cool.
God is starting to pound into my head that people are what matter most on this earth. The people I love dearly, the people I walk past at school, the people I see in church when I'm leading worship. Every one of them is made in the image of God, every one has a story, every one has a purpose. Jesus died to save every one of them. He knows the plans He has for them, plans to prosper them and not to harm them, plans to give them a future and a hope.
People like James T. from church and Bob my former Theater prof and Austin from Riverwalk and Gary who lives across the street and Ryan my cousin and Andria my supervisor at work. They all matter so much to the heart of God. And my life has made an impact on each of theirs, in radically different ways, in ways that I'll never comprehend. And I've impacted thousands of others.
And I continue to have influence, I continue to make a difference, for better or for worse, in the lives of so many people around me -- the ones who mean the most to me, and the ones I'll never meet.
But I don't want to focus on that; talk about the pressure that would ensue! My focus should all be on the one who created this universe and this tiny earth and all the eternal souls that dwell therein. And then He came into His creation, coming not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.
He's the One pulling the strings; He commands the breadth of my influence. All good comes from Him, and thus it is not merely immoral but useless to point my focus anywhere else. He will change the hearts of people. He emptied Himself for them, suffered the ultimate sacrifice that they might be set free.
May the same mind be in me that was also in Him.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Happy Birthday, Luke!
Dear Luke,
Lothlorien seems a good place for a birthday party. At least, I hope you'll have fun, hanging with Galadriel and Celeborn.
They decided to light things up all pretty just for YOUR birthday! (do you feel special? :P)
Yup, you got that right! Pepperoni Pizza! This is actually Mom's homeade pizza, but it's hard to see that in the picture. ;) But, knowing you have a big appetite, we decided to have something else too...
Yes, this too is homeade! Mom decided you *neeeded* this too....now, to drink...
There was Sprite here too somewhere...(yells, "Daniel!!!! Where's the Sprite?")
It's the closest I could get to the Complete J.R.R. Tolkien. Of course, that would have every scrap written by him, every audio recording, everything written about him, everything with the movies...all of it. :P
(Luke and Hannah in their childhood. :P)
Happy Birthday! I hope you have a great year of being 19! (Man, you're getting old) Welcome to your party! I thought of this several weeks ago, and started planning with several bloggers about doing a blog party. Can I say that your blog is *very* hard to hack into? It is. :)
To think that you're already 19....it makes me think of huge Lego castles built, trips to Branson (and Silver Dollar City ((and even more, CASCADES!))) , playing soldiers in the yard, making up stories during school time, your graduation, Fan the Flame, Church Camp, and so much more. Luke, you've always played a huge role in my life. To me, you've been the big brother, the role model. The one that when I was little, I wanted to marry. When you told me I couldn't, you crushed me...till I decided I had to marry someone JUST like you, instead. I never told you this, but you were a huge part of me getting saved. You were one of the biggest influences in my life. I love you, big brother.
You were such a cute baby, too. (not that you aren't now, too!) I know you've blessed Mom and Dad throughout your life, and I pray you'll continue to every day of your life.
My birthday blessing for you is that your days will outshine the glory of Aragorn, King of Gondor. May your love and passion for God will reach the ends of the earth and see many saved. May you will be successful at whatever you put your hands to. May God bless you beyond your wildest dreams. May your days be filled with love, happiness, and everything that God sees fit to give you. "I pray for you on your birthday, that your path, as is promised to the just man, will shine not less and less but more and more; that you will still bring forth fruit in old age; that the Lord will give you a thankful heart like the psalmist's who sang, "O God, thou hast taught me from boyhood, all my life I have proclaimed thy marvellous works: and now that I am old and my hairs are gray, forsake me not, O God....Songs of joy shall be on my lips; I will sing thee psalms, because thou has redeemed me. All day long my tongue shall tell of thy righteousness." (Psalms 71:17, 18, 23, 24 NEB) So--happy birthday!...A birthday filled with thanksgiving and hope is the happiest kind of birthday. Have one of those! Deck yourself with joy!"- Elisabeth Elliot
This is what I pray for you on your birthday.
So, now the party!
I thought that for your birthday, we'd go here:
I thought that for your birthday, we'd go here:
Lothlorien seems a good place for a birthday party. At least, I hope you'll have fun, hanging with Galadriel and Celeborn.
They decided to light things up all pretty just for YOUR birthday! (do you feel special? :P)At any rate, I thought it would be fun....now, for the food. Unfortunately, they ran out of lembas, so we decided to fix...
Yup, you got that right! Pepperoni Pizza! This is actually Mom's homeade pizza, but it's hard to see that in the picture. ;) But, knowing you have a big appetite, we decided to have something else too...Yes, this too is homeade! Mom decided you *neeeded* this too....now, to drink...
There was Sprite here too somewhere...(yells, "Daniel!!!! Where's the Sprite?")
We'll find that somewhere...
Now, for the entertainment...I thought of several things. I thought eating might be entertainment enough...I thought that going to Lothlorien might be entertainment enough...but, no, we have to have entertainment. :) So, we've brought some of your favorite people in...you get to film a movie!!!!!!!! You get to direct, order professionals around, mess with professional actors....we got Viggo, Orlando, Christopher Lee, Elijah, Billy, Dom, Liv, Bernard, Sean Bean, Sean Astin, John (Noble), David, and...just for you, Luke, we got...Peter Jackson! :P Yes, he agreed to come and work with you on producing..of course, you're still in charge. So, have fun for your birthday! (and take lots of pictures! :P)
Now, as to the guests...of course family, friends, and your fiance! :) But, we invited a special guest....
Yes, as a birthday guest, you get...CHRISTOPHER TOLKIEN! I know you'd love to spend hours with this guy, but, I'm afraid it's time to open presents.
Now....what did I want to get you???
It's the closest I could get to the Complete J.R.R. Tolkien. Of course, that would have every scrap written by him, every audio recording, everything written about him, everything with the movies...all of it. :P But, in reality, what I did get you was this...A Hunted Website. :P Check out huntedthemovie.blogspot.com. It's not absolutely done, but I've got a real good start.
Thanks for being who you are Luke...thanks for being my brother. I love you.
Love, Hannah
(Luke and Hannah in their childhood. :P)
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Why, why, why?
Why am I the way I am?
Why do I love grandeur and majesty and epic storytelling so much?
Why is my singing voice so deformedly loud as to blot out all noise within a fifteen-foot radius of me?
Why did I not merely listen to, but enjoy Beethoven's Fourth Symphony in the car on Monday?
Why do I forget about my most important mail immediately after opening and reading it?
Why am I able to look an instructor in the eye with a frown of professed concentration, when my mind is far away?
Why do I step into the shower and immediately begin dreaming of the epic movies I hope to one day realize?
Why do I mess with my pens during class?
Why do I seemingly always lean toward my lover, whether we're sitting or standing?
Why can't I write a good poem?
Why do I always sling my backpack over my right shoulder?
Why do I tape memorable quotes to my bedroom ceiling?
Why do I have to make sure to rip every CD I have onto my computer, regardless of whether I ever plan on listening to it or not?
Why do I like to edit video?
There's a trite answer, of course, and you've probably guessed what it must be. I don't know, but He does, and He made me that way. OK, so it's true. Doesn't make it any less trite. And it still doesn't really answer: Why?
We humans want to know why. Most of us do, anyway. If you don't, you're either very privileged or very delusional. Why, why, why? The Psalmists asked it; Job asked it; Moses asked it.
It's okay to ask, I think. But we can't necessarily expect to get the answer. At least, not the answer we seek. God gave Job a pretty memorable answer, mostly using questions, but He never gave Job what he wanted.
His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts than our thoughts. That's scary, mindboggling, comforting. He is, after all, God, and I am, after all, little Homo sapien.
I look forward to finding out all the "why's" about me. 'Cause I think He'll reveal them, someday. He likes to reveal mysteries, in their proper time. He's going to show me how He tweaked and tinged me, formed and filled me, molded and marked me, and how vitally important every single tiny detail was in his True Myth, his Great Epic.
That's the kind of God He is. He revels in art, in craft, in beauty and glory in things made. He tells big stories, huge stories, so intricate and detailed that, even in heaven, we may never comprehend everything in them. I like that. He made me to love big stories like that.
And I still don't know why.
Why do I love grandeur and majesty and epic storytelling so much?
Why is my singing voice so deformedly loud as to blot out all noise within a fifteen-foot radius of me?
Why did I not merely listen to, but enjoy Beethoven's Fourth Symphony in the car on Monday?
Why do I forget about my most important mail immediately after opening and reading it?
Why am I able to look an instructor in the eye with a frown of professed concentration, when my mind is far away?
Why do I step into the shower and immediately begin dreaming of the epic movies I hope to one day realize?
Why do I mess with my pens during class?
Why do I seemingly always lean toward my lover, whether we're sitting or standing?
Why can't I write a good poem?
Why do I always sling my backpack over my right shoulder?
Why do I tape memorable quotes to my bedroom ceiling?
Why do I have to make sure to rip every CD I have onto my computer, regardless of whether I ever plan on listening to it or not?
Why do I like to edit video?
There's a trite answer, of course, and you've probably guessed what it must be. I don't know, but He does, and He made me that way. OK, so it's true. Doesn't make it any less trite. And it still doesn't really answer: Why?
We humans want to know why. Most of us do, anyway. If you don't, you're either very privileged or very delusional. Why, why, why? The Psalmists asked it; Job asked it; Moses asked it.
It's okay to ask, I think. But we can't necessarily expect to get the answer. At least, not the answer we seek. God gave Job a pretty memorable answer, mostly using questions, but He never gave Job what he wanted.
His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts than our thoughts. That's scary, mindboggling, comforting. He is, after all, God, and I am, after all, little Homo sapien.
I look forward to finding out all the "why's" about me. 'Cause I think He'll reveal them, someday. He likes to reveal mysteries, in their proper time. He's going to show me how He tweaked and tinged me, formed and filled me, molded and marked me, and how vitally important every single tiny detail was in his True Myth, his Great Epic.
That's the kind of God He is. He revels in art, in craft, in beauty and glory in things made. He tells big stories, huge stories, so intricate and detailed that, even in heaven, we may never comprehend everything in them. I like that. He made me to love big stories like that.
And I still don't know why.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
I used to be so wise...
Got my wisdom teeth removed on Friday. Quite a pleasant experience, actually, except for what happened afterwards: the numb mouth, bleeding gums, and of course the eventual pain as my mouth protested the heartless extraction of four of its rightful inhabitants.
But yeah, the actual experience was just fine. After Friday class, I went over to the house of my F&F (fiancee and family). Played with the kids for a while, helped Lana put windshield wiper fluid in her car (that's very significant, BTW), and then my lovely wonderful girl drove me over to the oral surgeon. We presented our handsome down payment (a check courtesy of my terrific parents) to the, uh, payment lady, then sat down in the waiting room to, uh, wait.
After a few moments -- "Luke Hobbs?" -- yup, that's me, and I had to bid my lover goodbye, leaving her to imagine all the terrible things that could potentially happen to me, and head into the operating room.
Dr. James A. Remerscheid greeted me and informed me -- for the second time, as he had already told me all this when I visited to set up the appointment -- that he would give me a general anethesia. Just pop a little IV in the arm, give a few squeezes from some little knockouter-thingy, and in a few moments I would, as he put it, "go fishing." And then he'd get my teeth out.
Scarcely any pain as he deftly inserted the IV needle into my arm (directly on the other side of my elbow). He drew a little bit of blood out, then squeezed the knockouter stuff in, and almost immediately I started to get lightheaded. I was still totally conscious, but sight was definitely blurry. I commented on it to the nurses, about how it felt kinda weird but I was still definitely awake --
And I don't know when I "went fishing", whether it was at that moment or a little later on, but that's the last thing I remember.
By the time I regained consciousness, my mouth was completely numb, but I could tell that it was filled with gauze pads. The first sight I remember seeing was my lovely bride-to-be, sitting in a chair in the corner. As she later informed me, I had been awake for a while, and talking to her, but "awake" and "conscious" are two entirely different things. Apparently I told her several times (before regaining consciousness, that is) that I was pretty lucid, and that she was nice. The latter, of course, is something I tell her all the time, but it still strikes me as funny that I said it several times and don't remember it at all.
Anyways, she and one of the nurses helped me outside (I was definitely walking wobbly) to Lana's truck. We got on Rogers Avenue, took a brief detour to Wal-Mart so she could buy me some water, and then went home. My wonderful Lana stayed with me for a little while, then left to go to her home before it got dark. Then I went to sleep for a while.
By the time I woke up, a couple hours later, pain was slowly beginning to make its way into the mouth. I didn't mind terribly much, because the bleeding had pretty much stopped and I could finally get the stupid gauze out of my mouth. Mom fixed chicken noodle soup for dinner, and I was able to ingest it, if not chew it. I ate a whole bunch of it, because it was the first thing I'd had to eat since a bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios at 8 that morning ('cause you're not supposed to eat or drink anything whatsoever for six hours before your operation).
So for the last day and a half or so, I've gotten to take it easy and rest. The doctor prescribed me some pain pills for the teeth (or lack thereof), but I only had to use 'em a couple times; Tylenol and ibuprofen the rest of the time. Think I'm gonna go take some more in a few minutes, 'cause my mouth is hurting again.
Anyways, that's my experience with wisdom teeth removal. The actual process isn't bad at all; it's the aftermath that's rather painful. I suppose that's the way it is with most surgeries. (BTW, I don't know that they actually did any "surgery"; at least three of the four teeth had come all the way in and so I think they just yanked 'em out).
It's two days after the removal, and my mouth is still fairly sore, and I'm pretty tired, but other than that I'm fine. I do want to thank a few people: Dr. Remerscheid for not messing up my facial nerves and making me unable to smile ever again; my beautiful Lana Marie for driving me and helping me and buying me water and caring for me all-around; my parents for taking care of this before I got married, and thus picking up the tab for it (I know it's a big sacrifice, Mom and Dad, but thank you so much for it; it's a blessing to me and my bride-to-be, and Lord willing it's the last major expense of mine you'll ever have to cover).
Forgot to mention that the extraction has made me grumpy at times. Or maybe I'm just inclined to be grumpy anyway and I finally have an excuse. I don't know. All I know is, yesterday I was hurting and hungry (not a good combination for a teenage guy), and irritated because I had already eaten the few things I could eat for lunch and was still starving. So my wonderful mom fixed me two baked potatoes with butter and sour cream and shredded cheese. *Sigh*...
But yeah, the actual experience was just fine. After Friday class, I went over to the house of my F&F (fiancee and family). Played with the kids for a while, helped Lana put windshield wiper fluid in her car (that's very significant, BTW), and then my lovely wonderful girl drove me over to the oral surgeon. We presented our handsome down payment (a check courtesy of my terrific parents) to the, uh, payment lady, then sat down in the waiting room to, uh, wait.
After a few moments -- "Luke Hobbs?" -- yup, that's me, and I had to bid my lover goodbye, leaving her to imagine all the terrible things that could potentially happen to me, and head into the operating room.
Dr. James A. Remerscheid greeted me and informed me -- for the second time, as he had already told me all this when I visited to set up the appointment -- that he would give me a general anethesia. Just pop a little IV in the arm, give a few squeezes from some little knockouter-thingy, and in a few moments I would, as he put it, "go fishing." And then he'd get my teeth out.
Scarcely any pain as he deftly inserted the IV needle into my arm (directly on the other side of my elbow). He drew a little bit of blood out, then squeezed the knockouter stuff in, and almost immediately I started to get lightheaded. I was still totally conscious, but sight was definitely blurry. I commented on it to the nurses, about how it felt kinda weird but I was still definitely awake --
And I don't know when I "went fishing", whether it was at that moment or a little later on, but that's the last thing I remember.
By the time I regained consciousness, my mouth was completely numb, but I could tell that it was filled with gauze pads. The first sight I remember seeing was my lovely bride-to-be, sitting in a chair in the corner. As she later informed me, I had been awake for a while, and talking to her, but "awake" and "conscious" are two entirely different things. Apparently I told her several times (before regaining consciousness, that is) that I was pretty lucid, and that she was nice. The latter, of course, is something I tell her all the time, but it still strikes me as funny that I said it several times and don't remember it at all.
Anyways, she and one of the nurses helped me outside (I was definitely walking wobbly) to Lana's truck. We got on Rogers Avenue, took a brief detour to Wal-Mart so she could buy me some water, and then went home. My wonderful Lana stayed with me for a little while, then left to go to her home before it got dark. Then I went to sleep for a while.
By the time I woke up, a couple hours later, pain was slowly beginning to make its way into the mouth. I didn't mind terribly much, because the bleeding had pretty much stopped and I could finally get the stupid gauze out of my mouth. Mom fixed chicken noodle soup for dinner, and I was able to ingest it, if not chew it. I ate a whole bunch of it, because it was the first thing I'd had to eat since a bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios at 8 that morning ('cause you're not supposed to eat or drink anything whatsoever for six hours before your operation).
So for the last day and a half or so, I've gotten to take it easy and rest. The doctor prescribed me some pain pills for the teeth (or lack thereof), but I only had to use 'em a couple times; Tylenol and ibuprofen the rest of the time. Think I'm gonna go take some more in a few minutes, 'cause my mouth is hurting again.
Anyways, that's my experience with wisdom teeth removal. The actual process isn't bad at all; it's the aftermath that's rather painful. I suppose that's the way it is with most surgeries. (BTW, I don't know that they actually did any "surgery"; at least three of the four teeth had come all the way in and so I think they just yanked 'em out).
It's two days after the removal, and my mouth is still fairly sore, and I'm pretty tired, but other than that I'm fine. I do want to thank a few people: Dr. Remerscheid for not messing up my facial nerves and making me unable to smile ever again; my beautiful Lana Marie for driving me and helping me and buying me water and caring for me all-around; my parents for taking care of this before I got married, and thus picking up the tab for it (I know it's a big sacrifice, Mom and Dad, but thank you so much for it; it's a blessing to me and my bride-to-be, and Lord willing it's the last major expense of mine you'll ever have to cover).
Forgot to mention that the extraction has made me grumpy at times. Or maybe I'm just inclined to be grumpy anyway and I finally have an excuse. I don't know. All I know is, yesterday I was hurting and hungry (not a good combination for a teenage guy), and irritated because I had already eaten the few things I could eat for lunch and was still starving. So my wonderful mom fixed me two baked potatoes with butter and sour cream and shredded cheese. *Sigh*...
Monday, February 4, 2008
Update on Hunted
Sorry for the prolonged time between posts. I had opportunities to post, but just...didn't, for some reason. Mostly just forgetfulness. So yeah.
I wanted to address the questions about Hunted, because several of you have asked at various times, and even though my fiancee did a wonderful job of answering the most recent question, I figured maybe a word from me wouldn't hurt.
We haven't filmed anything for Hunted since...man, I'm not sure, mid to late November I guess. We stopped partially because it was getting way too cold to be out in the woods in short sleeves, but mostly because Lana and I were getting absolutely swamped with schoolwork and couldn't afford to take the time to film on Saturdays.
The film is not dead, and in fact, if you check out the hobbbottomfilms channel on YouTube (or just scroll down to the bottom of my blog page and look at the sweet player), you'll find a brief behind-the-scenes video clip from the filming of Scene 5 (a scene that I just happened to finish editing recently). My plan is to post more BTS clips in the future, just as a tease and a way to keep people interested. Of course, many are the plans in my heart, but the Lord directs the steps, so we'll see.
So here's where we are on Hunted: approximately twelve scenes stand between us and the completion of filming. I say approximately twelve because it's really hard to gauge; some scenes are partly filmed and partly not-filmed and that makes it hard to tell. But it's around twelve total. We have a couple more days out in the woods, a few more Gang scenes, and a few other loose ends.
That's the filming left. As far as editing, I haven't begun to scratch the surface there; I've edited seven scenes thus far, out of 65. 65 scenes, you ask? That many? Well, yeah, currently, but don't fret just yet; it's going to be a long movie, but not as long as that figure might make you think. Anyways, after editing comes the soundtrack (sound effects, dialogue rerecording, and musical score), and then we'll be ready to show Hunted to the world.
Is all this even achievable, as we stand right now? Good question. It shouldn't take that many days to film everything we have left (of course, my actors have heard that before, many times, and it doesn't always pan out that way), but the editing and sound work will be a huge job that I certainly can't finish till summer, if then. And by then it'll be me and my lovely wife finishing it. Amazing stacey.
So that, my friends, is where Hunted is. Finishing will be a huge challenge at this point, and I don't know that we can do it. But I know God wanted us to do this movie, and I believe He wants us to try to finish it. Whether we will is up to Him. If we do finish it, it won't be ideal, and our extended filming halt isn't going to help continuity any. But that's okay; we're to work at it with all our might, because we truly are working for the Lord, not for man.
And that comforts me, because any studio would have long ago lost patience with us and pulled the plug. (We would never have been working for a studio on this, and it would have made our situation far different, but those facts are beside the point.)
I'd like to thank you guys for your prayers and encouragement on our little film; it means so much to us. Please continue to pray. If the Lord wills, you really will get to see Hunted someday -- I pray, someday soon.
God bless!
I wanted to address the questions about Hunted, because several of you have asked at various times, and even though my fiancee did a wonderful job of answering the most recent question, I figured maybe a word from me wouldn't hurt.
We haven't filmed anything for Hunted since...man, I'm not sure, mid to late November I guess. We stopped partially because it was getting way too cold to be out in the woods in short sleeves, but mostly because Lana and I were getting absolutely swamped with schoolwork and couldn't afford to take the time to film on Saturdays.
The film is not dead, and in fact, if you check out the hobbbottomfilms channel on YouTube (or just scroll down to the bottom of my blog page and look at the sweet player), you'll find a brief behind-the-scenes video clip from the filming of Scene 5 (a scene that I just happened to finish editing recently). My plan is to post more BTS clips in the future, just as a tease and a way to keep people interested. Of course, many are the plans in my heart, but the Lord directs the steps, so we'll see.
So here's where we are on Hunted: approximately twelve scenes stand between us and the completion of filming. I say approximately twelve because it's really hard to gauge; some scenes are partly filmed and partly not-filmed and that makes it hard to tell. But it's around twelve total. We have a couple more days out in the woods, a few more Gang scenes, and a few other loose ends.
That's the filming left. As far as editing, I haven't begun to scratch the surface there; I've edited seven scenes thus far, out of 65. 65 scenes, you ask? That many? Well, yeah, currently, but don't fret just yet; it's going to be a long movie, but not as long as that figure might make you think. Anyways, after editing comes the soundtrack (sound effects, dialogue rerecording, and musical score), and then we'll be ready to show Hunted to the world.
Is all this even achievable, as we stand right now? Good question. It shouldn't take that many days to film everything we have left (of course, my actors have heard that before, many times, and it doesn't always pan out that way), but the editing and sound work will be a huge job that I certainly can't finish till summer, if then. And by then it'll be me and my lovely wife finishing it. Amazing stacey.
So that, my friends, is where Hunted is. Finishing will be a huge challenge at this point, and I don't know that we can do it. But I know God wanted us to do this movie, and I believe He wants us to try to finish it. Whether we will is up to Him. If we do finish it, it won't be ideal, and our extended filming halt isn't going to help continuity any. But that's okay; we're to work at it with all our might, because we truly are working for the Lord, not for man.
And that comforts me, because any studio would have long ago lost patience with us and pulled the plug. (We would never have been working for a studio on this, and it would have made our situation far different, but those facts are beside the point.)
I'd like to thank you guys for your prayers and encouragement on our little film; it means so much to us. Please continue to pray. If the Lord wills, you really will get to see Hunted someday -- I pray, someday soon.
God bless!
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