the highs and lows.

It has been a week of constant contemplations.

1) Housing rent - $2135.01
2) Digital transfer of 1509 ft of 16mm film - $551.10
3) Total cost of production (food, transportation, miscellaneous) - $1023.10

Watching my footage for the first time was heartbreaking at the very least. I mean I am glad that it was all perfectly exposed and focused, but framing and composition were just beyond my (agitated) comprehension. I'm not even sure if I'll have enough usable material to tell a story! That it costs so damn expensive for a measly four minute short film made me rethink the reason I'm here at all - whether it is really worth spending all this money and having to persistently rely on my parents for extra cast to be able to have a place to sleep and come home to, when I can't even perform my very best. It's so disheartening, this feeling - like I've been a complete (and extremely expensive) failure.

I look at pictures of people within that exclusive circle and can't help but wish that I was still back in there, trying to make something out of myself. It's weird how I've been having dreams of going home and going back to that job, meeting my old boss and sitting at my old desk with that ratty old computer, stressing over the mountain load of work (that I secretly enjoyed - 'now that is the creative challenge!' the Queen B of my Art Director used to say) It wasn't THAT bad... I mean I was getting a good raise, had great colleagues at last (after 2 months of solitary lunches) and what could have been better than to be with my boyfriend in his studio for hours at once, for the solid excuse of (professional) work?

Sigh.

Amidst all those thoughts, the day became better when Leo, Steve, Lindsay and Eirik came over and asked me to come along for an early dinner, and since Steve had been prodding on about having an all American breakfast, we decided over Washington Square Diner - where I had the best pancakes EVER (with a side order of scrambled eggs and turkey bacon!!) On the way for more drinks at Applebar we stumbled upon this bus which was modelled like a quaint cottage, with wooden panellings and was playing weird folklore music. I was completely at unease, dubious of the people in the bus who were preaching about unity and peace and everyone living in absolute harmony... if you've ever watched M. Night Shyamalan's 'The Village', well that's how those people looked (and behaved, and talked) like. A few more rounds at Applebar and a half-drunk Mr. John Tintori the Chair coming over to proclaim, "Oh, that four minute film, it's such a stupid exercise we make you guys do, with both hands tied!" I was stuffed, tired, and not overly happy but not as depressed (or comtemplative) as before.

Sigh.
That aside, I miss him so, very very much at this point. I honestly don't know what I would do without him right now - it really doesn't matter anymore that he's halfway across the world in a different time zone and space. For him to be able to just sit and listen to me cry and whine about how I thought the world was coming to an end because my footage sucked, and ramble nonsensical about wanting to just pack up and go home at 4 o'clock in the morning (his time) after a long, stressful day at work without flinching or stifling a yawn - he is everything that I could ever ask for, and more.

"Gondry says hi!"
and how could I possibly not crack a stupid grin.

Now if I can only scrap enough money watch Broken Social Scene live at the Webster Hall next week, life wouldn't be as half miserable as it already is.
And if only is he was here to come with me, life could be at least half tolerable.