Monday, June 22, 2009

The Painful Delivery of a Film

It’s amazing that I can think of a subject to write about in times when I have nothing going on, nothing to do, and yet when my life is filled to the brim with crap, my mind is a complete blank. I don’t know how I used to blog every single day, but I miss those days. I want them back!

So what’s going on, Internet?

All I’m doing lately is work. Then I complain about work, I work from home, I dream (nightmare) about work, I wake up in the middle of the night freaking out about work … it’s a little alarming, a little depressing, and altogether (sadly) expected. I think making a movie is like having a baby. In short:


1. Conception (Pre-Production): Fun in theory! Ideas! Adrenaline surge!
2. First Trimester (Filming): Nervousness, preparation, realization that preparation doesn’t matter, exhilaration and nausea from all that energy.
3. Second Trimester (Re-Shoots): Fatigue and a sense of dread … the end is near.
4. Third Trimester (Post-Production): HOLY CRAP, IT’S ALMOST TIME TO GET THIS SUCKER OUT OF HERE.
5. Birth (Opening Day): OWWWWWWWWWWW---- HOORAY!! I love it! It’s over! Hallelujah!

I, unfortunately, work in the third trimester. It is a constant state of HOLY CRAP all the time around here, especially as things are drawing to a close (theoretically).

It’s a roller coaster of emotions and energy levels that I truly believe will help me deal with childbirth, should I ever have babies. Unbelievably sensitive people are all around me, just waiting to be set off with the tiniest little excuse. Of course, I’m also in that sort of high-strung panic mode at the moment, so everyone is irritating me.

Perfect example:

Right when I finished typing “irritating me,” one of the people I need to listen to (obey like a good little minion) yelled in my direction that he “really needs [that report] right away.”

That part is fine. I can whip up reports, I can do what needs to get done. I’m a nerd and therefore quite good with Excel macros, formulas, and what-have-you. Easily done.

Then (THEN!) he says, “And you need to check it, not just do it and send it to me.”

I had to practice Lamaze breathing just to keep my blood pressure below “furiously boiling.”

You see, I had had a plan. After the director comes over tonight, I was going to create this fabulous report and everything would have been up-to-date. It doesn’t really make sense to do it before the director has seen everything, does it? But no, let’s not go with my (solid) plan. Let’s make me do double work.

I start the report, grudgingly. I can be a very tetchy sort of girl and when I want to, I can hold grudges longer than anyone else I know. (No, I’m not bragging- I don’t enjoy being this way, I just am this way. I’ve accepted it.)

I’m halfway done and my wrists are killing me and then, of course, comes a hollered, “Never mind, let’s just do it after the director’s here.”

Oh. My.

I bite my tongue and refrain from verbally abusing one of the people that could get me fired. I close the report and, instead of typing lots of little numbers and letters into it, go back to my blog and finish typing this lovely entry out.

Between reining in my (constant and burning) temper and trying to stay awake in a pitch-black screening room for a few hours daily, I am just plain confused.

Caffeinated highs, crashing lows.

No wonder I’m a mess.

4 comments:

ate June 23, 2009 at 9:28 AM  

Ouch. I can feel your anger way down here. And I am a day away.

jeanny June 23, 2009 at 1:53 PM  

I know, right?

*sigh*

I don't mean to be this angry! It will subside soon ... and like the pain of childbirth, I will forget how awful it was and do it all over again. Wheeeee!

ate June 24, 2009 at 6:33 AM  

Well, they say when you're angry, you're punishing yourself. Good thing it will pass.

BTW, I like your post about your parents. Reminded me of mine when they were a pair...

sniff.

jeanny June 24, 2009 at 7:31 PM  

I've never heard that before, but it seems to make sense- the angriest people are the ones that do seem to be the most self-loathing.

I'm sorry about your parents, but glad you have good memories.