welcome to existence.
I worked my office job from 8am - 5pm yesterday, came home and changed my clothes, ran to Kinkos to order more movie posters, and then drove for an hour to get to set for a night shoot, where I did photos until 2 in the morning... before making that drive back home, sleeping for a mere 4 hours and then getting up at 7:30am to go dress a set (outside. in 90 degree heat) until 5pm. I feel like shit. I am bruised and full of paint and cuts and sunburn and I want to throw up or pass out or both.
But I look at this, and things like how our cinematographer goes into shock from heat stroke when he finally gets back to his room and is right back on set the next day. How this is funded by individual people who really believe in the story, how we turned down an offer because they wanted us to change things and we didn't want to compromise. How our director gets on his hands and knees to rearrange the dirt for a shot, how he scrubs mud off of his actors' shoes instead of making an intern do it. How our stunt coordinator takes me to dinner after a shoot because neither of us want chicken marsala, how we sit laughing for hours and close the restaurant down before he drives out of his way just to make sure I get back without getting lost. How our assistant director comes up to tell me something and we instinctively put our hands out to apologize, how we end up holding thumbs as he tells me what to do and how to do it. How the sound guy gets yelled at because he's so eager to teach me things that he forgets to pay attention. How the associate producer tugs on my pants pocket and asks how I'm doing that day. How our lead actor hears my shutter and turns away from makeup to say, "Good morning, sunshine!" How people come up to me and ask if they can see my camera, only to turn it on me because they feel bad that I'm not getting to be in photos myself. How a set dresser notices that I'm using long shutter and runs off to make me a tripod out of wood and sandbags. How people don't even flinch when someone starts putting sunscreen on the back of their neck without being asked. How we let each other borrow our equipment without a second thought, how I give someone my zoom lens and need it 5 minutes later but don't ask for it back because the joy on his face as he pulls back to look at his photos between shots is enough to make me cry. How I was miserable today doing things that you couldn't pay me to do but was doing anyway because I thought of all the things the director has done to support my passion and my goals and wanted to return the favor. How this is starting to feel like such a goddamn family, how I wake up in the morning and literally miss them, I think of all of these things and I know that there's no way that this won't come out well. Life has taught me time and time again that when there is so much heart in every single corner of something, there's no way it won't come out bigger and better than you've ever dreamed possible.
I realized all of this when I got into the air conditioned doorway of home. I realized that the sweat from today, the paint, the ruined clothes, the dirt under my nails, the bruises and the blood on my left hand - none of those things mean that I learned how to grommet and spackle and use tools, they mean that I learned what's truly going on here and that I could see it in full for the very first time. They mean that even the worst moments of this are better than the best moments of other things I've done. That I am even luckier than I thought. That even when I want to cry and quit, when I'm overworked and underpaid and entirely wanting to die, I am still happier than I've ever been.
But I look at this, and things like how our cinematographer goes into shock from heat stroke when he finally gets back to his room and is right back on set the next day. How this is funded by individual people who really believe in the story, how we turned down an offer because they wanted us to change things and we didn't want to compromise. How our director gets on his hands and knees to rearrange the dirt for a shot, how he scrubs mud off of his actors' shoes instead of making an intern do it. How our stunt coordinator takes me to dinner after a shoot because neither of us want chicken marsala, how we sit laughing for hours and close the restaurant down before he drives out of his way just to make sure I get back without getting lost. How our assistant director comes up to tell me something and we instinctively put our hands out to apologize, how we end up holding thumbs as he tells me what to do and how to do it. How the sound guy gets yelled at because he's so eager to teach me things that he forgets to pay attention. How the associate producer tugs on my pants pocket and asks how I'm doing that day. How our lead actor hears my shutter and turns away from makeup to say, "Good morning, sunshine!" How people come up to me and ask if they can see my camera, only to turn it on me because they feel bad that I'm not getting to be in photos myself. How a set dresser notices that I'm using long shutter and runs off to make me a tripod out of wood and sandbags. How people don't even flinch when someone starts putting sunscreen on the back of their neck without being asked. How we let each other borrow our equipment without a second thought, how I give someone my zoom lens and need it 5 minutes later but don't ask for it back because the joy on his face as he pulls back to look at his photos between shots is enough to make me cry. How I was miserable today doing things that you couldn't pay me to do but was doing anyway because I thought of all the things the director has done to support my passion and my goals and wanted to return the favor. How this is starting to feel like such a goddamn family, how I wake up in the morning and literally miss them, I think of all of these things and I know that there's no way that this won't come out well. Life has taught me time and time again that when there is so much heart in every single corner of something, there's no way it won't come out bigger and better than you've ever dreamed possible.
I realized all of this when I got into the air conditioned doorway of home. I realized that the sweat from today, the paint, the ruined clothes, the dirt under my nails, the bruises and the blood on my left hand - none of those things mean that I learned how to grommet and spackle and use tools, they mean that I learned what's truly going on here and that I could see it in full for the very first time. They mean that even the worst moments of this are better than the best moments of other things I've done. That I am even luckier than I thought. That even when I want to cry and quit, when I'm overworked and underpaid and entirely wanting to die, I am still happier than I've ever been.