Aramayis Kageorgis

By Aramayis Kageorgis (Grade 12)

Aramayis Kageorgis - proper noun – Ar`a*ma"is [are-a-ma-yees]

My name is Aramayis Kageorgis and my life is made up of numerous experiences that define my personality. These experiences are filled with unique discoveries that only I can cherish. The only reason I find significance in these experiences is that I saw them through my own perspective. My experiences didn’t always have a positive impact but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m reflecting on them now just as I did before and by doing that, I am making myself a better person.

In the not so distant past, I was really ashamed of my name. It was too long and I hated how people mispronounced it. I wanted an average name, a common name, a one-syllable name. I wanted a name like John, Sam, or Paul. Whenever I was talkative in class my fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Momjian, told me, “Aramayis, you have too beautiful a name to group with words like stop and talking so, ARAMAYIS STOP TALKING!!!”

At the time I didn’t understand what she meant by that phrase. I kept my mouth shut, but I didn’t think my name was beautiful.

Thinking back even earlier than that, I remember complaining to my mom about my name. I used to yell, “That Jamba Juice worker just called me Eruhmayonnaise! Why couldn’t you just name me John or Sam or…?”

“Before you say Paul again, let me inquire…”

“What does inquire mean?”

“It means to ask.”

“Ask ahead.”

“How many people do you know are named Aramayis?”

“None.”

“And how many people do you know who are named John, Sam, and Paul?”

“Plenty, that’s exactly my point. Nobody’s named Aramayis.”

“Let me finish. My point is, janeegus, that if I had named you John, et cetera, et cetera, that employee would have pronounced your name correctly because he has heard those names before, because everyone has those names, and they’re not as special as yours.”

“Yeah, well, I hate having a special name.”

Recently I have come to realize that I love my name. Thinking back on what I said, I think I was so wrong. My name is unique. I don’t ever have to worry about being confused with someone else. Only one image comes to people’s minds when reading my name.

Aramayis Kageorgis…

My teachers were so right.

About five years after that, I picked up a burning passion for cinema. My ninth grade second semester film elective was surely the instigator. One of our projects was to compose a short film that had to have a plot outline with a meeting and exchange between two individuals. This project was the match that ignited my interest. My film’s story was made up of a drug deal between a famous musician and a dishonest cocaine dealer that results in both of their deaths. It made me realize how much I love creating stories and letting my imagination go off-leash.

I was inspired to take every other class associated with film available to me. During summer of that year, I signed myself up for Cinema 107: The Analysis of Motion Pictures at Pierce College, taught by Mr. McColloch. The classroom basically looked like a movie theater with the same type of seating and a large projector pointed toward the wall. I remember reading the first line of the syllabus that stated:

*WARNING: After taking this class you will never view films the same way*

This line had an extremely negative impact on me because of the way I incorrectly and subconsciously applied the knowledge I acquired after taking the class to every film I watched. It basically had the effect of a self-fulfilling prophecy but in a negative way. Films started to boil down to the low angle shots, long takes, mise-en-scene and other cinematic elements that the filmmaker used to compose it. I didn’t understand the reason why those elements were being used, just that they were being used, which was a major mistake. Films started to bore me and gradually that burning passion faded into a freezing dislike for anything to do with films. This class didn’t help me in the traditional way a class should, but it opened up an opportunity for me. It wasn’t until a year and a half later that the fire was lit again.

I can say that last year, a few weeks before spring break, was one of the most enlightening periods of my lifetime. The cause of this instructive knowledge was expected considering that it was when I was first introduced to Transcendentalist philosophy. It was in Mrs. Martin’s eleventh grade literature class. The introduction couldn’t have come at a better time. I had recently experienced a snow-blanketed Yosemite during winter break. My appreciation for nature was already there and this just added to it. I began to see everything exactly for what it was and the pointless judgment that clouded my vision before was now cleared. I began to view life with a transparent eye. Henry David Thoreau once said, “It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.” What I thought of when I read that quote was spectators looking at a stage with actors performing, and instead they see Marie Antoinette being decapitated during the French Revolution. They’re only actors paid to be in costumes and makeup, recite lines of dialogue, and act out the character that was written for them.

This mindset helped me gain back my interest in cinema. My uncle was interested in filming a documentary on the roots of the Armenian Alphabet. He knew that I had taken a college class in film and asked me to work with him. I saw this opportunity for exactly what it was and agreed to help. He bought an expensive digital camera, tripod, and other accessories. As we worked on it, I felt the fire burning once more. He told me the equipment was just as much mine as it was his. The opportunity to use those tools helped me in the future.

During spring break of the same year, I was given the opportunity to experience Yosemite once again, although this time it was spring. Coincidentally I had a fresh mindset in which to experience it. My brother and I decided to make the best of this opportunity and explore its vast untouched beauty by hiking its trails. As we were walking back to our campsite after our first hike, we encountered a bit of irony. While walking, we saw a group of campers herded to the side of the street which connected the campsites curiously gazing toward the woods. The curiosity was contagious and without hesitation we joined this group of tourists. Out of nowhere, we heard a small child scream, “Look it’s a bear!” And everyone looked to where he pointed. It was actually a baby bear, a cub is the correct term for it. Most people wouldn’t think much of seeing a bear in Yosemite; it’s quite common actually. However my brother and I viewed it from quite a different perspective. We had just endured a three and a half mile hike and the closest thing we saw to wildlife was a squirrel that looked exactly like the squirrels in the valley. The irony of the situation is that we didn’t see this bear while hiking the more secluded parts of Yosemite, but we saw it in the most civilized part.

This wasn’t the last of unusual experiences to happen that year. The most recent happened this summer only one week before school started. Michael, Anthony, and I had come up with a short story which I adapted into a screenplay for short film. It happened the first day we began filming “What A Load Of Crap!” The story takes place in a public recreation area named Serrania Park. It includes a shot where Michael and Anthony carry an object wrapped in a sheet that looks identical to a dead body.

We were finishing up the last take of that shot when we noticed a woman with a worried face suspiciously observing us. She was speaking on a cell phone rather quickly. I had to urinate, so I took care of that on a nearby tree. The next thing we knew, a police car rolled right in front of the camera. We immediately uncovered the object which was composed of a soccer bag, a backpack, and a blanket. We told them we were just filming. They were still convinced that we were up to something. It must have been something that lady said. They asked, “Can we see what’s in the bags? We want to make sure you guys aren’t transporting any dead bodies, body parts, bombs, grenades, or large quantities of drugs or drug paraphernalia.”

“It’s just a soccer bag, sir,” I said, showing them what was inside the bag.

“Yeeeaaah. Was anybody urinating anywhere?”

“Uhhh no not us, sir, not us.”

They then asked to see our IDs. They checked them out and our records were clean. No past history of any murdering, concealing, or smuggling. They finally realized we were really just filming and they let us continue. The last thing the cop said was, “Continue filming and if anyone looks at you funny, just tell them you’re filming.”

“Of course, officers, have a good day.”

The first thing I did when they left was check if the camera was still rolling and luckily it was. Needless to say we were overjoyed. I took two things from this experience. The first thing I learned was that next time it would be convenient to put signs that said:

We are not: Transporting any dead bodies, body parts, bombs, grenades, or large quantities of drugs or drug paraphernalia.
We are: just filming.

The second was a possible blooper scene.

Albert Sezent-Gyorgyi Nagyrapolt said: “Discovery consists of seeing what everybody has seen and thinking what nobody has thought.” I completely agree with him because I believe anyone could tell you a story about an experience, his experience, but you shouldn’t base your facts on it. Should you trust his opinion while passing judgment on that particular experience? I believe you shouldn’t because he viewed the experience with his own eyes and mind. You should experience it yourself, then pass your own judgment. The result of all the experiences I reflected on is who I am today. I can say that I am completely satisfied with the result.