that face in the mirror looks familiar
i can't believe i forgot. i forgot. i can't believe it.
i forgot what it's like to walk into a hotel lobby, glass doors sliding open and everything you need to survive strapped to your back.
opening your door with that little magnetic card and throwing it into your pocket with fingers crossed because you really are anxious over maybe forgetting to take it once you leave again. throwing your garment bag and messenger bag onto the bed, sitting down on that chair behind the desk that you'll never actually use.
a sigh and a survey of your surroundings.
air conditioner in the corner, humming away and making you feel like precious dollars are being wasted when you can just as easily open a window. but still, you leave it on. the little fridge that isn't practical for anything other than deli ham or shots of vodka. but still, you cram in liters of coke and oversized styrofoam leftover boxes from the late night before.
then...the television. the cable card propped up somewhere nearby. conversions: fox 12 to fox 37.6, NBC 5 to NBC π. and, being the A/V soul that i am, the tube is invariably ignited. the gentle lull of mindless commercials and mini-drama are somehow the most primitive of natural background.
too many lamps.
plenty of blankets. pillows? forget about it.
the crux, you see, is preparation. hotel/conference center gaggles of people. all of us the same age, all here for 'professional' reasons. the marketing club of high school, you see, is a pounding four years of reiteration and repetition, training you to cast aside any real concerns when attending conferences and training classes and all other forms of career-driven future-malaise.
the marketing club of high school hones your suddenly-social abilities, breaking shy shells and self-doubt. the marketing club of high school prepares you and introduces you to the life that blindly passes you by.
the throngs of young people, rambling around and drinking and talking and trying so hard not to expose their insecurities. their reasons for being here tainted by naive expectation and inexperience with the corporate tapestry. their hopes that the weeks will pass without demerits and maybe a good amount of drinking. how predictable.
the week has progressed in time, though possibly stale in other ways. old friends become less than friendly, old friends become less than memories of a different time and different persons. old friends become new friends.
the cast is complete, for the most part, excepting a few one-line appearances. the comfort level is rising, and the shooting dates are approaching fast. the expectations are high and excitement volcanic. things are moving along.
the most illuminating this week is the realization of surroundings. the understanding that things simply aren't right. an unveiling of all the things that you would change, if you could. friends and clothes, hairstyles and car and outlook on life. blankets. relearning an old instrument, discovering a new one. the way you stick out your tongue too much, the way you quibble over semantics. the way you view reality.
suddenly your surroundings shouldn't be surrounding you.
two weeks ahead, full of work and learning and socializing and gallivanting. cavorting. cohorting. doing things.
the weekend was full of rachel weiz, oddly enough. every video, every dvd, every movie reference. there she was. movies rented and there she is, couldn't have seen it from a mile away.
"it's a sign," i said. "clearly. now all i have to do is figure out what it means."
i'm a bit of a short-writing machine of late. ideas pumping and dumping and lolling around. the last couple of weeks have been good, at least in intention. production could have been better, but there's time for that.
same goes for theories, too; the meandering into physics is back again, recreating scientific history in my own head the way i've been doing since high school. someday it'll be ahead of the curve; for right now, it's in the middle of what most are seeing in grad school. and that's nothing to complain about.
given the monotony of the average day, you'd think i have a routine. but i don't. there are constants, of course; taking showers, getting dressed. and i'm proud to say i brush my teeth every single day. but still, all else lacks the rigid structure of a rut, so monotony is of a vaguer form. what to do, where to do it, and finding it all moot because such things aren't able to be done. so let's see what happens with a schedule this fortnight.
too much espresso. too much unfinished business. too much time and too much ambition. too much ego. too much jade and too much else that can make you happy. there simply isn't time for routine and rules. there simply isn't time for conformity.
and wouldn't you know it, i forgot to pack toothpaste.
i forgot what it's like to walk into a hotel lobby, glass doors sliding open and everything you need to survive strapped to your back.
opening your door with that little magnetic card and throwing it into your pocket with fingers crossed because you really are anxious over maybe forgetting to take it once you leave again. throwing your garment bag and messenger bag onto the bed, sitting down on that chair behind the desk that you'll never actually use.
a sigh and a survey of your surroundings.
air conditioner in the corner, humming away and making you feel like precious dollars are being wasted when you can just as easily open a window. but still, you leave it on. the little fridge that isn't practical for anything other than deli ham or shots of vodka. but still, you cram in liters of coke and oversized styrofoam leftover boxes from the late night before.
then...the television. the cable card propped up somewhere nearby. conversions: fox 12 to fox 37.6, NBC 5 to NBC π. and, being the A/V soul that i am, the tube is invariably ignited. the gentle lull of mindless commercials and mini-drama are somehow the most primitive of natural background.
too many lamps.
plenty of blankets. pillows? forget about it.
the crux, you see, is preparation. hotel/conference center gaggles of people. all of us the same age, all here for 'professional' reasons. the marketing club of high school, you see, is a pounding four years of reiteration and repetition, training you to cast aside any real concerns when attending conferences and training classes and all other forms of career-driven future-malaise.
the marketing club of high school hones your suddenly-social abilities, breaking shy shells and self-doubt. the marketing club of high school prepares you and introduces you to the life that blindly passes you by.
the throngs of young people, rambling around and drinking and talking and trying so hard not to expose their insecurities. their reasons for being here tainted by naive expectation and inexperience with the corporate tapestry. their hopes that the weeks will pass without demerits and maybe a good amount of drinking. how predictable.
the week has progressed in time, though possibly stale in other ways. old friends become less than friendly, old friends become less than memories of a different time and different persons. old friends become new friends.
the cast is complete, for the most part, excepting a few one-line appearances. the comfort level is rising, and the shooting dates are approaching fast. the expectations are high and excitement volcanic. things are moving along.
the most illuminating this week is the realization of surroundings. the understanding that things simply aren't right. an unveiling of all the things that you would change, if you could. friends and clothes, hairstyles and car and outlook on life. blankets. relearning an old instrument, discovering a new one. the way you stick out your tongue too much, the way you quibble over semantics. the way you view reality.
suddenly your surroundings shouldn't be surrounding you.
two weeks ahead, full of work and learning and socializing and gallivanting. cavorting. cohorting. doing things.
the weekend was full of rachel weiz, oddly enough. every video, every dvd, every movie reference. there she was. movies rented and there she is, couldn't have seen it from a mile away.
"it's a sign," i said. "clearly. now all i have to do is figure out what it means."
i'm a bit of a short-writing machine of late. ideas pumping and dumping and lolling around. the last couple of weeks have been good, at least in intention. production could have been better, but there's time for that.
same goes for theories, too; the meandering into physics is back again, recreating scientific history in my own head the way i've been doing since high school. someday it'll be ahead of the curve; for right now, it's in the middle of what most are seeing in grad school. and that's nothing to complain about.
given the monotony of the average day, you'd think i have a routine. but i don't. there are constants, of course; taking showers, getting dressed. and i'm proud to say i brush my teeth every single day. but still, all else lacks the rigid structure of a rut, so monotony is of a vaguer form. what to do, where to do it, and finding it all moot because such things aren't able to be done. so let's see what happens with a schedule this fortnight.
too much espresso. too much unfinished business. too much time and too much ambition. too much ego. too much jade and too much else that can make you happy. there simply isn't time for routine and rules. there simply isn't time for conformity.
and wouldn't you know it, i forgot to pack toothpaste.
posted by Mister Vikas at 2:16 AM
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