Last week I interviewed for job I'm still being considered for here in the Bay Area. It's another one of these marketing meets filmmaking type positions, that in reality is all project management with enough marketing for me to convince myself it's a creative job and enough connection to filmmaking to convince myself that it's related to what I'm really interested in. They told me that two people would be selected from this round to meet the SVP of Marketing and then the decision would be made. I got an email right away that I was one of those two.
This is the job that I gave the presentation for and had a sick feeling afterwards. I thought they were they were not enthused with my ideas, I thought they were grilling me because they didn't think I was qualified. Neither was true. I'm realizing now that everything that happens, is happening inside me. What I see on the outside is only a reflection of what's happening in my mind. It may or may not even be happening!
It occurred to me that I still didn't know why I was even continuing to interview for it. I wondered if it was because I don't like to leave things undone and I didn't want to walk away from an opportunity without understanding fully what the opportunity was. Maybe I thought if they made me a good offer, I'd stay for a little while and do my thing later. "Do my thing later?" Then I realized I didn't even know what the salary range was for this position. When the HR assistant emailed me to set up the next interview, I asked. The salary range was far below what I was expecting and what I would have asked for. Interesting.
Now, all of a sudden, it seems easier to walk away from this position. It becomes the final vote to do my own thing. But it wasn't! Somehow this threw me into an even crazier loop because it made me start to understand that it really doesn't matter whether I have a job or how much the job pays. I reviewed the benefits for the company: Three weeks vacation, over a week of holidays and the time between Christmas and New Year off, free gym and classes, free lunch twice a week, flexible work weeks, free counseling, first time home buying assistance, a $5,000 rebate if you buy a hybrid, paid jury duty and volunteer hours, discounts, free tickets, on and on and on. This is why people want to work there. This is why they can hire people who are over qualified and pay them less than they're used to getting. It's not a stepping stone to something else, this is a lifestyle.
After a talk with the HR gal, she said she could add $10k to the top end of the range and with the potential 20% bonus, it was within $8k of the low end of my range. I felt my throat clench and my stomach turn. I felt myself in danger of considering this job (that I haven't been offered yet) even as everything that came out of my mouth was meant to get them to go away. It was like when I was trying to break up with the last guy I dated: he was perfect on paper but he made my stomach turn. I decided to go to the last interview anyway, wait for the offer and then consider it. The SVP asked me very directly why I wanted the job. My answer was weird, weak and unconvincing, even to me. I couldn't think of a reason in the world why anyone would want this job. All of a sudden it made sense why they keep asking me that question.
A friend of mine asked me the same question only an hour earlier and my answer to her was honest. For this and the last three jobs I've considered, I wanted them "because of the potential that it could help my film career." That was my only answer. I couldn't believe it. How absurd! I'm too afraid to pursue what I really want so I look for it in a job. There's a part of me that wishes I could just get a job in a great company like this one, buy a house, meet a guy, get married and make a bunch of babies and friends who like to ski and camp and take trips together. As the years pass, however, more of me begins to accept that I'm just not that person. I'm an artist. I have more ideas than could ever be utilized in a job and at the end of the day, the only thing that matters to me is expressing myself. I can live without the other stuff but living a life without sharing my ideas and creating art with like minded people isn't living; it's dying a slow, comfortable death. I've spent the last three years discovering what came to me yesterday afternoon in an instant. I *don't* want that job, I never did and no one is convinced that I do, even if they see how my ideas and energy could benefit their company.
Starting my own business is also, I realize, not a means to financial independence in the usual sense. I'm not looking for a business idea that will make me rich. Living in this world of tech startups and VC capital has made me think that I probably could. I certainly have the ideas and smarts and enough talented friends to make it happen, but it isn't what I want. What I want is to make movies. That's it. Documentaries, shorts, features, low budget, big budget, webisodes, it doesn't really matter, as long as it's a film. I had a boss once who said my problem was I have "too much potential." He said that it would be hard for me to stay committed to art because I was capable of too many other things. He said that in 2002. It's true that choice can be paralyzing. It is extremely difficult to intentionally give up the earning potential of a steady career to be an artist. There's no clear path, no guarantee of success and no automatic respect in title.
When I get emails from actor friends, desperate for a job because they're flat broke, or when I hear filmmakers talking about spending everything they have on a film that didn't pay out, it scares me. This is a life of poverty and uncertainty, sometimes temporary, sometimes not. All of this time I've been accusing myself of running away from security, responsibility and commitment because I didn't have a solid career, a husband and a house. It turns out, I'm not not running away from anything, I'm just fumbling towards where I belong. The truth is, I do want those things, but not at the cost of giving up who I am.
Showing posts with label doing what you love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doing what you love. Show all posts
Friday, August 8, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Making a difference
I went to a screening last night at the Cartoon Art Museum for a documentary directed by a friend up from L.A. The Indepdents promised to be about the creative process, told from the perspective of comic book artists. I was afraid that it was going to be a painfully geeky foray into a world I know little about and was not particularly intrigued by. I took the bus up from San Jose, walked to the BART station and took the train two stops, rushing to make it by 7pm and skipping dinner. Three attempts to get a date had failed so I had plenty of opportunities to decide not to go, but I persisted.
I’m glad I did because several times during the film I found myself smiling and thinking “Right on!” First of all, these people are much more than illustrators; they’re storytellers in the purest sense. They sit down to a blank page with a pen and create a world, inhabit it with characters, give them dialogue and take us through an exciting narrative with amazing efficiency. Wendy Pini, an artist in the film, was there for a Q&A and described her 30-year old 'Elfquest' as the never ending battle between knowledge and ignorance. “I’m not interested in good and evil,” she said, “I’m much more interested in how people can understand each other through communication. “Elfquest” is very idealistic; it’s all about how people should treat each other.” I was surprised that many of them, like Wendy, knew they had a story to tell and chose comics as the medium because they could be producer, director, writer, actor and the studio – with the power to green light their own projects.
A few historical points were touched on and I learned that at the height of comic books' popularity with young adults, the industry was attacked for “eroding the minds of youth,” much the way rock and roll, rap music and video games have been. Comics began to be regulated and some were censored, many went out of business. The most palatable ideas, the superhero genre we’re so familiar with, were rewarded with unprecedented success and the marketing shifted to children, further marginalizing other comic styles.
I could relate with many of the artists in the film who took a long time to accept themselves as artists. Certainly it’s not easy to be an artist but my attempts to work a corporate job and be a weekend warrior have made me miserable. To my surprise, while I was frustrated as a poor cocktail waitress with roommates, I feel that those days were some of my happiest. I had the freedom to do what I wanted, including exercise, had abundant creativity and discipline to write, and felt that I was genuinely pursuing something important to me.
There was one guy in the film, Craig Thompson (“Blankets”), who really struck a chord with me. He constantly wonders if he should be doing something more humanitarian. He feels guilty being a comic book artist when he could be doing more to help his fellow man. I honestly have never heard anyone express that, even though I think it is exactly what plagues me. Back in college, I started wrestling with that issue, taking Women’s Studies, working for the College Democrats and dreaming of a career in politics. All the while, I was auditioning for films on campus and performing improve in the summers. I pursued acting despite my upbringing and internal messages telling me that it was frivolous, indulgent, a bad choice for a career, had a huge chance of failure, etc. Unfortunately for me, the desire to do something to make a difference hasn’t propelled me into great humanitarian work (although I do my fair share of volunteering), it has only kept me from truly being an artist. I deal with overwhelming feelings of guilt in wanting to be a filmmaker when there are issues I feel so strongly about and the obvious “answer” of making a documentary about those issues is wholly unappealing to me.
As I have sat at the crossroads of choosing a new path or recommitting myself to filmmaking, those feelings have become more pronounced. “I have to believe that comics are doing some good for people too,” Thompson concludes. Certainly Wendy Pini found a way to tell her story, be an artist and communicate a higher ideal that is meaningful to her. The answer, for me then, is to do what I love and believe I will make the difference I am meant to make.
I’m glad I did because several times during the film I found myself smiling and thinking “Right on!” First of all, these people are much more than illustrators; they’re storytellers in the purest sense. They sit down to a blank page with a pen and create a world, inhabit it with characters, give them dialogue and take us through an exciting narrative with amazing efficiency. Wendy Pini, an artist in the film, was there for a Q&A and described her 30-year old 'Elfquest' as the never ending battle between knowledge and ignorance. “I’m not interested in good and evil,” she said, “I’m much more interested in how people can understand each other through communication. “Elfquest” is very idealistic; it’s all about how people should treat each other.” I was surprised that many of them, like Wendy, knew they had a story to tell and chose comics as the medium because they could be producer, director, writer, actor and the studio – with the power to green light their own projects.
A few historical points were touched on and I learned that at the height of comic books' popularity with young adults, the industry was attacked for “eroding the minds of youth,” much the way rock and roll, rap music and video games have been. Comics began to be regulated and some were censored, many went out of business. The most palatable ideas, the superhero genre we’re so familiar with, were rewarded with unprecedented success and the marketing shifted to children, further marginalizing other comic styles.
I could relate with many of the artists in the film who took a long time to accept themselves as artists. Certainly it’s not easy to be an artist but my attempts to work a corporate job and be a weekend warrior have made me miserable. To my surprise, while I was frustrated as a poor cocktail waitress with roommates, I feel that those days were some of my happiest. I had the freedom to do what I wanted, including exercise, had abundant creativity and discipline to write, and felt that I was genuinely pursuing something important to me.
There was one guy in the film, Craig Thompson (“Blankets”), who really struck a chord with me. He constantly wonders if he should be doing something more humanitarian. He feels guilty being a comic book artist when he could be doing more to help his fellow man. I honestly have never heard anyone express that, even though I think it is exactly what plagues me. Back in college, I started wrestling with that issue, taking Women’s Studies, working for the College Democrats and dreaming of a career in politics. All the while, I was auditioning for films on campus and performing improve in the summers. I pursued acting despite my upbringing and internal messages telling me that it was frivolous, indulgent, a bad choice for a career, had a huge chance of failure, etc. Unfortunately for me, the desire to do something to make a difference hasn’t propelled me into great humanitarian work (although I do my fair share of volunteering), it has only kept me from truly being an artist. I deal with overwhelming feelings of guilt in wanting to be a filmmaker when there are issues I feel so strongly about and the obvious “answer” of making a documentary about those issues is wholly unappealing to me.
As I have sat at the crossroads of choosing a new path or recommitting myself to filmmaking, those feelings have become more pronounced. “I have to believe that comics are doing some good for people too,” Thompson concludes. Certainly Wendy Pini found a way to tell her story, be an artist and communicate a higher ideal that is meaningful to her. The answer, for me then, is to do what I love and believe I will make the difference I am meant to make.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
A roaring bonfire of possibility
I'm going through a cynical phase; at least I hope it's a phase! I think it started about two years ago: I was in a bad relationship and had fallen out of love with the industry. Even though I had just scored a tiny part on The O.C. and was cooking up some more short film ideas, I just felt like I had tried and I had failed. I never thought I'd feel like that, I never thought I'd feel so drained and spent and unsure if what I was doing was right. So in the absence of all those things, I took a job that would pay me a decent wage, something I'd lived without for five years.
I've changed jobs four times since then and ended the relationship but have been single for over a year, and not feeling particularly hopeful about that part of my life either. And now, five months after taking a job that I moved here for, I'm going to be out of work again. My super cool project got killed when leadership changed and funding got cut. But it has been a bumpy ride and there's a chance, it's all for the best. According to my horoscope, which I don't put much stock in except when it seems to kind of be right, the last two years have been putting me to the test but I'm about to finally break out on my own and reap the rewards that I so richly deserve.
Recently I befriended a young man who was supposed to work on my cool project. He's a very talented filmmaker and is just full of life and enthusiasm. He makes his living doing what he loves, has won awards and spent a year traveling the world but there's not a whiff of pretension about him. He's incredibly sweet and down to earth and curious about everything. I don't register any of the doubt and fear and questioning from him that I suffer from, he seems to just do what he loves without any of that.
We were having a drink the other night and I felt like everything that came out of my mouth was cynical, doom and gloom, been there done that, this is what I've learned in the school of hard knocks bullshit. How is it possible, I wondered, that with only ten years between us I'm such a curmudgeon? Has life really been that hard? I'm still young, I have no debt, I'm capable and passionate and curious and the world should still be my oyster. Have I always been this way? People say I'm an eternal optimist but maybe I'm just stubborn and keep going because I'm a creature in motion, not necessarily because I believe in the future.
It seems so long ago, those ten years, yet I remember feeling so different. I think the challenge is not to revert or try to recapture youth, because that isn't possible. You can't unlearn, undo or take back an experience. Even though we "forget," those experiences alter us forever. We are changed by our years. We can, however, let that wisdom be more of a backseat driver than a front seat driver. Shopping with a girl friend last weekend, I saw a huge photo of a teenage girl short shorts and long slim legs. I said to my friend, "Wow, if I'd known then how fleeting those great legs were, I would have worn more short shorts!"
After a minute, it occurred to me that I wore nothing but short shorts, skirts and dresses through my entire teen years. Only once in recorded history did I cover my legs at school. It must follow, then that there are now fleeting moments that I may not be fully appreciating, or more accurately noticing that I'm appreciating. Much of my malaise, I think, is in looking at what isn't instead of what is. (Ironically my annoying ex-boyfriend, the "bad" relationship mentioned above, told me this about our relationship.) Years from now I'll be saying "When I lived in San Francisco, I should have done more ..." or "If I'd known ... while I was working in Silicon Valley, I would have ..." I am already kicking myself for not making more movies when I was in Los Angeles where I have people and friends who wanted to make movies with me. I made everything so difficult, too important, and I focused on what I didn't have (time, money, energy) instead of what I did have (friends, a camera, a computer, ideas).
I think it's easy to be cynical, especially we get older. All the evidence we've gathered over the years supports the theory that life is hard. Everything in the newspaper supports the theory that people suck and we're all gonna die. (I just started getting The Economist which surely isn't helping my mood). But the fact is that hope begets more hope and gloom begets more gloom. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to start looking at what I have and I'm going to capture each spark of hope and fan the flames until I am a roaring bonfire of life and possibility.
I've changed jobs four times since then and ended the relationship but have been single for over a year, and not feeling particularly hopeful about that part of my life either. And now, five months after taking a job that I moved here for, I'm going to be out of work again. My super cool project got killed when leadership changed and funding got cut. But it has been a bumpy ride and there's a chance, it's all for the best. According to my horoscope, which I don't put much stock in except when it seems to kind of be right, the last two years have been putting me to the test but I'm about to finally break out on my own and reap the rewards that I so richly deserve.
Recently I befriended a young man who was supposed to work on my cool project. He's a very talented filmmaker and is just full of life and enthusiasm. He makes his living doing what he loves, has won awards and spent a year traveling the world but there's not a whiff of pretension about him. He's incredibly sweet and down to earth and curious about everything. I don't register any of the doubt and fear and questioning from him that I suffer from, he seems to just do what he loves without any of that.
We were having a drink the other night and I felt like everything that came out of my mouth was cynical, doom and gloom, been there done that, this is what I've learned in the school of hard knocks bullshit. How is it possible, I wondered, that with only ten years between us I'm such a curmudgeon? Has life really been that hard? I'm still young, I have no debt, I'm capable and passionate and curious and the world should still be my oyster. Have I always been this way? People say I'm an eternal optimist but maybe I'm just stubborn and keep going because I'm a creature in motion, not necessarily because I believe in the future.
It seems so long ago, those ten years, yet I remember feeling so different. I think the challenge is not to revert or try to recapture youth, because that isn't possible. You can't unlearn, undo or take back an experience. Even though we "forget," those experiences alter us forever. We are changed by our years. We can, however, let that wisdom be more of a backseat driver than a front seat driver. Shopping with a girl friend last weekend, I saw a huge photo of a teenage girl short shorts and long slim legs. I said to my friend, "Wow, if I'd known then how fleeting those great legs were, I would have worn more short shorts!"
After a minute, it occurred to me that I wore nothing but short shorts, skirts and dresses through my entire teen years. Only once in recorded history did I cover my legs at school. It must follow, then that there are now fleeting moments that I may not be fully appreciating, or more accurately noticing that I'm appreciating. Much of my malaise, I think, is in looking at what isn't instead of what is. (Ironically my annoying ex-boyfriend, the "bad" relationship mentioned above, told me this about our relationship.) Years from now I'll be saying "When I lived in San Francisco, I should have done more ..." or "If I'd known ... while I was working in Silicon Valley, I would have ..." I am already kicking myself for not making more movies when I was in Los Angeles where I have people and friends who wanted to make movies with me. I made everything so difficult, too important, and I focused on what I didn't have (time, money, energy) instead of what I did have (friends, a camera, a computer, ideas).
I think it's easy to be cynical, especially we get older. All the evidence we've gathered over the years supports the theory that life is hard. Everything in the newspaper supports the theory that people suck and we're all gonna die. (I just started getting The Economist which surely isn't helping my mood). But the fact is that hope begets more hope and gloom begets more gloom. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to start looking at what I have and I'm going to capture each spark of hope and fan the flames until I am a roaring bonfire of life and possibility.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Demetri Martin. Person.
For what feels like the hundredth time, I have to apologize for abandoning the blog. I’m encouraged to see there are still people at least clicking through to see if something is there although I wonder if some of my readers are gone for good. I haven’t had access to the Internet anywhere but work or haven’t had a moment to myself in several weeks and unfortunately, both of those things are needed for regular posting. I’m in the process of shopping for Internet service and will probably end up buying a cable package so I can watch some of the shows people are raving about. My boss was concerned before I started this job that I wasn’t into pop culture (aka TV) enough, so I have to keep up with the references.
I’m not doing very well because I listened to an interview on NPR last night with Demetri Martin, who I’d never heard of. He’s a comedian who used to do a bit on Conan O'Brien – which I’ve seen but I still don’t know Demetri - and now has his own comedy special on DVD (see, what do I need cable for?) He was being interviewed on Fresh Air by Terry Gross who was so obviously charmed by Martin that I assumed must be very good looking or extremely hip – something that I couldn’t hear over the radio – to get that kind of reaction from her.
But as he spoke about his background and upbringing I noticed that there was something particularly disarming about him. Soft-spoken and serious, he didn’t sound like the typical comedian. He didn’t laugh much, didn’t do any voices and didn’t even tell that many jokes. He just sounded like a genuine person, a nice guy with a cool and funny view of the world. Then, he laughed and I could swear I was falling in love over the radio. You could hear him smiling, his eyes twinkling and once he said he was Greek, I was beyond hope. Call me crazy but I’m a sucker for a big nose.
So this morning I looked him up on the Internet. He looks as young as he sounds but turns out he’s only two years younger than me and although totally adorable, not the kind of face you'd expect to get Terry Gross giggling like a schoolgirl. The best part of the interview was when he told her how he got into comedy. He was studying law at NYU, having moved there with a girlfriend, planning to do the one thing he always thought he’d do, corporate law. For no particular reason he’d never questioned this decision, until he started school. He immediately hated it, the day-to-day wasn’t enjoyable to him at all, but stuck with it for two years before dropping out. Martin challenged himself to find something he liked doing with his day, and then to find a way to make money doing it.
He liked joking around with his friends, he said to himself, and so “comedian” became the answer. I wonder if it was really that simple. I’d like to think that it was, that life decisions can be that basic. Am I happy? What would make me happy? How can I make money being happy? Cute and funny Demetri has given me something to ponder as I start month two at the new job.
I’m not doing very well because I listened to an interview on NPR last night with Demetri Martin, who I’d never heard of. He’s a comedian who used to do a bit on Conan O'Brien – which I’ve seen but I still don’t know Demetri - and now has his own comedy special on DVD (see, what do I need cable for?) He was being interviewed on Fresh Air by Terry Gross who was so obviously charmed by Martin that I assumed must be very good looking or extremely hip – something that I couldn’t hear over the radio – to get that kind of reaction from her.
But as he spoke about his background and upbringing I noticed that there was something particularly disarming about him. Soft-spoken and serious, he didn’t sound like the typical comedian. He didn’t laugh much, didn’t do any voices and didn’t even tell that many jokes. He just sounded like a genuine person, a nice guy with a cool and funny view of the world. Then, he laughed and I could swear I was falling in love over the radio. You could hear him smiling, his eyes twinkling and once he said he was Greek, I was beyond hope. Call me crazy but I’m a sucker for a big nose.
So this morning I looked him up on the Internet. He looks as young as he sounds but turns out he’s only two years younger than me and although totally adorable, not the kind of face you'd expect to get Terry Gross giggling like a schoolgirl. The best part of the interview was when he told her how he got into comedy. He was studying law at NYU, having moved there with a girlfriend, planning to do the one thing he always thought he’d do, corporate law. For no particular reason he’d never questioned this decision, until he started school. He immediately hated it, the day-to-day wasn’t enjoyable to him at all, but stuck with it for two years before dropping out. Martin challenged himself to find something he liked doing with his day, and then to find a way to make money doing it.
He liked joking around with his friends, he said to himself, and so “comedian” became the answer. I wonder if it was really that simple. I’d like to think that it was, that life decisions can be that basic. Am I happy? What would make me happy? How can I make money being happy? Cute and funny Demetri has given me something to ponder as I start month two at the new job.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sometime in the next five years
Last weekend, after my haircut, I tripped into a new age shop and started looking around. I met an Astrologer with a short haircut I really liked and we got to talking about hair. I told her I was new to the city and about my barbershop experience. She had a nice face so I asked her about the Astrology readings and before I knew it, was making an appointment for a reading. I went home to unpack for a while and then headed back out to my new city for a new experience.
After generating my birth chart on the computer, Linda looked at me and said my chart suggested that I was an entrepreneur, someone who should have my own business or work for myself and that she was surprised that I had moved up here to work for eBay. I had to stifle a laugh when I heard it out loud, for some reason it sounded ridiculous that someone would go through what I just went through for a job at some generic big corporate Internet company. I told her that I would love to work for myself but I just haven’t figured out what the thing is. "You will," she said, "sometime in the next five years."
She said I had an issue with commitment because I am in constant conflict with myself. One the one hand, I want stability and need a home, I also want enormous freedom and have a need to travel. She suggested that I use home as a base instead of an anchor, and that I write down this phrase “freedom through commitment.” Committing to something doesn’t mean I can’t do the other things, she said, it just means I’m going to do that one thing fully. It made me realize, again, that in my ideal world I would travel the world, take pictures, interview people and write articles. Maybe for National Geographic, maybe just for myself.
Later when I recalled the details of a reading to some friends at a brunch, a woman I’d just met told me a story about a guy that works for her ad agency. He’s a guy, she said, who wasn’t sure what he was doing, just dabbling in graphic design and some other things. He put together a video for this job of his torso and arms walking the viewer through his world and what he does. He got the job and ended up directing the HP hands campaign based on his video resume. Now, he works part-time at one of the most prestigious ad agencies in the world and lives in his native London and wonders how the hell this all happened. The point was that you don’t need to know how to get where you’re going; you just have to do what you love.
After generating my birth chart on the computer, Linda looked at me and said my chart suggested that I was an entrepreneur, someone who should have my own business or work for myself and that she was surprised that I had moved up here to work for eBay. I had to stifle a laugh when I heard it out loud, for some reason it sounded ridiculous that someone would go through what I just went through for a job at some generic big corporate Internet company. I told her that I would love to work for myself but I just haven’t figured out what the thing is. "You will," she said, "sometime in the next five years."
She said I had an issue with commitment because I am in constant conflict with myself. One the one hand, I want stability and need a home, I also want enormous freedom and have a need to travel. She suggested that I use home as a base instead of an anchor, and that I write down this phrase “freedom through commitment.” Committing to something doesn’t mean I can’t do the other things, she said, it just means I’m going to do that one thing fully. It made me realize, again, that in my ideal world I would travel the world, take pictures, interview people and write articles. Maybe for National Geographic, maybe just for myself.
Later when I recalled the details of a reading to some friends at a brunch, a woman I’d just met told me a story about a guy that works for her ad agency. He’s a guy, she said, who wasn’t sure what he was doing, just dabbling in graphic design and some other things. He put together a video for this job of his torso and arms walking the viewer through his world and what he does. He got the job and ended up directing the HP hands campaign based on his video resume. Now, he works part-time at one of the most prestigious ad agencies in the world and lives in his native London and wonders how the hell this all happened. The point was that you don’t need to know how to get where you’re going; you just have to do what you love.
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