Narrative Video, 2008, Emmy Natalicchio
We wrote about something that happened to us in the past, got pretty emotional. This is basically about an X boyfriend, yeah ha i know. It was really a play on the visual side, you see perfection when its really completely the opposite. We see what we want to see, when we should be listening to our head.
Emelia Natalicchio
Time Arts
Mr. Grimm
October 6, 2008
Non-Linear Narrative Voice-Over and Image Disassociation
I am sitting in the hallway studying for the last few minutes I have before I must perform my Italian oral exam. The pressure is getting to me. A lack of sleep, a fever of one hundred and two are just a few things adding to the overwhelming aspect of college. But it’s manageable I think to myself. I can do this with a pace.
My ring tone starts to play startling me out of my stress. I pull it out of my jacket pocket and look at the screen. It is a Texas area code but I do not recognize the number. I answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, this is BLANK. I just thought I’d call, it’s been awhile and I thought we should catch up?”
The second my brain registers the name, as soon as my ears recognize the voice, the stress in my blood ignites like a fire.
“Um… I have to take an Italian exam right now so I’ll have to call you back.”
“Oh, sure whenever you can. I just wanted to catch up.”
I shut off the phone. Then suddenly a startlingly fact hits me square in my thoughts; it has been exactly one year since I broke up with him. Questions from a very panicked past self start to scream through my thoughts. Why the hell is he calling me? How the hell did he remember my number? Who in the hell does he think he is! Since when is it ok to contact me after all the things he put me through? I can’t do this. I can’t go through this all over again! Paranoia creeps up on me and sends me into shock. The voice in my head says in a terrified whisper, “What if he is here? What if he knows where you are?”
All the ailments of my stress peak and cause me to feel out of control. The memories flash back in front of my eyes.
“Next student.”
I snap back to reality. The test! Shit! I stand shakily and walk to my professor’s desk sit down in the chair besides it and wait until she addresses me. I try to just focus on my test, on the goal to get this stress out of the way, let it be released. But paranoia is persistent and keeps whispering panicked thoughts in my head. My professor must see my emotions slapped across my face, because her own displays confusion and worry.
“Are you alright Emmy? You look extremely shaken”
“I just got a random phone call, from someone who shouldn’t be calling me, and it really tipped me off my game.”
I am choking back tears now; the terror is really seizing me. My professor seems to understand because she tells me that it’s ok if I need a minute, she will let someone else go before me. I quietly accept and race out of the room. When I can breathe in the hallway again reality whips back into focus. The new stronger, better me pipes up in my head. “What the hell is wrong with you, he’s an idiot, he isn’t here, he has no clue where you are, and even if he did WHAT CAN HE POSSIBLY DO? It’s over. If he even dared to try to make up for all the lost time now by showing up you would kick his pathetic ass. Grow up, let the past go, and go take your test!” I go back in to my professor’s office and take the exam. I come out feeling way more in control and less stressful. I pick up my phone and dial the number. He answers.
“Hey, what’s up, how are you?”
“Look BLANK, I haven’t heard from you in about a year besides the harassment phone calls in the middle of the night and the vandalism to my car. I don’t give a damn why you are calling ok. I have nothing to say to you. I decide whether or not I want to let you back in my life and honestly that wouldn’t be good for either of us. So unless you called to finally apologize for being the biggest asshole on the planet and destroying to years of my life I want nothing to do with you. Please respect that you are in my past, I have let you go. I have moved on and I am not looking back. It’s over, and I don’t owe you anything. I’ll never forgive you for what you did and you will never affect my life again. If you call back after I hang up I’ll call the police and judging by what I’ve heard about your recent arrest I’m sure they will find you quickly. Get help. This is Goodbye for good.”
I hang up. My phone rings again a minute later. I feel anger bubbling up in me then I see the caller ID and see it’s the one person who makes everything better. I answer the phone. “Hey Bryce.”
Syracuse University Time Arts, Mark Edward Grimm Fall 2008
