Dayyan Sisson

Humanities
March 20, 2015

All Of Me
We Speak Article
This article is written by Dayyan Sisson, a junior at The Gary and Jerri Ann Jacobs High Tech High.

Despair never felt so empty. To lay a foundation, to build walls around an idea that will never be filled
leaves you breathless. Nothing hollows you out like a dream unfulfilled. But hope hope is a ladder to
higher places. On the breezes of confirmation youll rise.

All throughout my career in film, Ive experienced failure. Nothing good comes without pain, I knew
that, but to say obstacles littered my path would be a gross understatement. This latter statement is not
about self-glorification; its not a testament to my own strength or perseverance. Instead, its the
foundation of some of the impactful lessons Ive learned in life, and the basis of one of the greatest
journeys Ive embarked in my own young life. This is the story of Promethean.

March 30th, 2014

For about a month and a half, my two friends Grace Donalson, Brian Cesson, and I were working on a
short film for the National Academy of Engineering called
Imagine
, a two-minute piece about the
evolution of technology on our planet.
Imagine was as stereotypical as its name; sweeping shots of new
and old technology, representations of the progression of science and technology through time, all
imposed upon dramatic music and an impactful narration. It was weeks of meticulous work: countless
hours spent on scripts, scheduling, planning, casting, shooting. It was a relentless endeavor carrying
our own ambition through the heavy weight of time. With time limited, we put all our eggs in one
basket; the weekend before the due date: March 31st.

With all of our work compiled (main sequences, b-roll, music, logistics, etc) we set out on the final

Sisson 2
editing of the film. Already known to us was the time it would take to do so a two-minute video
translated to at least 12 hours behind a computer screen. But just outside our view would be the cracks
on the surface of our well thought out plan.

I began editing in the morning, with Brian and Grace joining me later in the day. All already
meticulously planned were the specific cinematic elements: a jump-cut here, a swipe-cut there, a lens
flare on the left of the shot to be blended with a flare on the right of the next, smoothly transitioned
together by a dissolve helped along by rolling shutter and perfectly balanced panning. It had all been a
painstakingly thorough process. We left very little room for error.

Our arrogance would catch up with us. Four hours into editing, the strain was beginning to show. The
piece just wasnt coming together. Sure, the concepts flowed coherently, and yes each shot
transitioned effortlessly, but the film had no legs to keep it upright. Another hour later, it became very
apparent that it was not going to work. Despite its planned cohesion and uninterrupted progression,
the video felt stitched roughly together, tattered and broken. Hours before the deadline, we were
haunted by the apparitions of our former failures.

It was beyond demoralizing. It ventured on degrading, a slap in the face, an obvious flaw in our
competency. We had done seemingly everything we could do to prevent this from happening, and yet
the problem loomed in front of us. With the seconds slipping away like the sun slips below the horizon,
we were drained of energy, joy, and hope. Time was not on our side, and as our own shortcomings
stared us in the face, we were daunted with the decision of giving up, or half-assing our way through
the rest.

A young man of decently fair values, I was not prepared to do one or the other. The work we had
produced suddenly seemed so subpar, so below our own standards that I refused to present it to
anyone outside of that room on that day. That said, I wasnt ready to abandon all ships either. Any

Sisson 3
passionate endeavor becomes all-consuming, and I knew I would be burying a part of myself with it if
we gave up, and I very well intended to keep all of me firmly planted above ground.

After we all came to the conclusion that we were neither going to give up, nor submit what we had, we
realized we had no other options. No secondary choices, no Plan Cs, nothing. . . Nothing, except one.
One crazy, outlandish, impossible, unreachable, undeniably overambitious idea. Start over.

March 31st, 2014

At 6 a.m. we watched the sun rise. Brian stayed the night and we woke up Sunday morning, the final
day for submission. We wiped all traces of our last video (burning our boats, if you will), picked up our
cameras, and set out with hope in our hearts, and a new plan in our hands. This video was simple: a boy
traveling through his daily life with his friends, exploring nature while using the technology of the past
and the technology of the future. There were no elaborate shots, no meticulous cuts; in fact the
majority of the shots were designed to look like it was through the eyes of the character itself. The
execution was simple, and we used special effects - the bells and whistles that would make the film
stand out above the rest - to take us some time into the future. It wasnt a new idea, but it came in a
flash of inspiration that we suddenly could not deny.

Time had always been a foreboding element throughout the entire process. It was constantly
surrounding us, haunting our footsteps with its ticking, an ever-present reminder of our restraints. But
now, although time was a bigger factor than ever, it hardly seemed to bother us at all. Carefree and with
a fierce determination, we leapt forward into the challenge.

I could paint this as a heroic struggle against overwhelming odds, and I just might. We werent spurred
by desperation (though it always nipped at our heels), but rather we caught a wave of inspiration and
allowed it to carry us forward. In the morning we began shooting at my own house, and then we took

Sisson 4
our bikes out and rode around town, shooting scenes of dining, biking, and adventuring. Near sunset
we collected ourselves and always aware of the fading light, captured the final scenes, complete with
dramatic sunset shots and unnecessary lens flares (yes, they found their way into this video as well).
With our job completed, we mounted our bikes and retreated back home, the setting sun slipping
below the hills.

Desperation finally caught up with us.

It was 7 p.m. The final submission time was at 11:59 p.m. We had less than 5 hours to edit a video that
would under ideal conditions take at least twice as long. But there was no other way but forward. We
werent turning back now. Sliding into my editing chair, the programs opened up, the lights came on,
and I was away. . . piecing together a film that I didnt even know was there, disabling my mind, closing
my eyes, and letting my fingers sew together our final act.

April 1st, 2014

12:01 A.M.

It was done. 18 hours of nonstop work. We named it P

romethean
.

We had our scare. The video finished exporting at 11:45 p.m, 14 minutes before the deadline. We
hopped onto the website, and in an instant our hopes were dashed. On the submission page, in big
bold letters, it read
SUBMISSION NOW CLOSED. THANK YOU FOR ENTERING! The submission must have
ended, we thought, at 11:59 eastern time. Nothing, absolutely nothing, stung like that did. Brian alerted
me to it, and as I glossed over the words my heart sank. Thats an understatement: my heart dropped
like a freakin bowling ball. I sat in shock for a minute, and then hung my head, hardly able to
comprehend. But we were not defeated. My despair turned to unthinkable anger, and oddly, once
again, determination. Immediately we contacted The Academy, sending emails, making calls, even
shouting (in hopes theyd hear us). We looked for any possible solution out of the scenario and then
suddenly, we found one. A flaw. A flaw in
their system. Hidden beneath the mass of competition pages

Sisson 5
we found a timer, telling us in real time how long we had to submit. It still said we had 8 minutes left!
Immediately we sent another email to the National Academy of Engineering, sending them proofs of
these flaws. As time expired on the clock, we crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.

March 9th, 2015

11:36 P.M.

Its been almost a year since we submitted our video to the National Academy of Engineering In solemn
reflection, I remain amazed at the journey we took. After sending those emails, we got a reply from the
NAE apologizing for the mistake, and promptly accepting our submission. Three months later, we
would run into legal trouble with the music we purchased for the video (after a license scam we walked
into) that required a hefty sum to overcome. More time passed after that. Some time later, we received
an email stating we were finalists. Excited, we waited for the final reply, one that would tell us whether
or not we had won or lost the competition. A week passed. A month passed. Then another. Then
another. Confused, I eventually got curious and glanced over their website and found the winners.

They had already chosen their winners, and applauded the losers. But we didnt even receive an email.
We had always been lauded for our work, people claiming that it was the best film we had ever done.
But we lost so bad they didnt even bother to tell us. Looking at the winners, we realized that our video
wasnt bad it just wasnt what they were looking for. That though, didnt alleviate the wound.

Moving forward today, I carry the weight of that film on my shoulders. Its a burden that never lets up.
Im constantly haunted by its ghosts, and as the reunion date of our endeavor grows nearer, I cant help
but remember the hurt caused by the outcome.

But like any good American plot, I will end on the happy note, or in this case, the silver lining. We had
done the impossible. We had not only achieved what we had set out to do, but far exceeded anything
we believed we ever could do. We created a film that could rival any of the films we had done in the
past, while fighting through odds unsurmountable. We overcame. Despite our failure, we won.