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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Work is the curse

Terence left the house this morning at 4:30 am to drive to the Valley and act as a set decorator on a commercial shoot. The funny thing is, after he got off the phone last night with his contact, he immediately felt like heíd gotten himself into something he had no understanding of. Plus he felt like an industrial design failure because heís gone from ďdesignerĒ to ďdecorator.Ē So he called a friend of ours whoís a script supervisor to ask some questions, and she said set decoratingís no problem, youíll just be moving shit around, following orders, so whereís this shoot?

Terence: The Valley

Script Supervisor: Oh yeah? Whereabouts?

T: Westlake.

SS: I have to be in Westlake tomorrow. What kind of shoot is it?

T: Itís a car commercial.

SS: Oh my god! Iím working on that tomorrow too!

Crazy, huh? Terence went to bed depressed, and I tried to put a positive spin on it.

a) he would be x amount of dollars richer the following evening.

b) he didnít have to agonize over a letter, or a resume, or a portfolio to get the job.

c) he didnít have to have an interview then get strung along while his candidacy was being considered or rejected.

d) he got a job that pays and he didnít have to meet anyone in person or do a little tap dance.

Sure, itís probably going to be menial work, but at least itís work. And he was just asking me for advice on where to look for part-time jobs! Working on a shoot seems to me the best kind of part-time gig: you work short or medium long stints; you get fed while youíre there; you meet people and talk to folks who arenít me.

I am most excited about Terence getting out there and meeting folks.

If I didnít go to yoga and socialize, I would probably go out of my mind. Of course, most of my interactions are limited to chitchat and rarely do I engage in quote/unquote conversations, but just being around people and feeling like I am part of the human race gives me a sense of purpose.

By the way, I havenít heard back from that company that wanted an invitation designed yesterday, and itís just as well. I really donít like working for people who have no respect for design and leave it til the end. Just as I was realizing that I would never hear back from the company (this is a new business reality: people no longer know how to or have the courage to call a designer back and let them know that they didn't get the job. Totally irritating and unprofessional in my book,) I got another phone call from a freelance editor wanting to know if Iíd be interested in working on a magazine. The world works in mysterious ways.

I probably wonít get that job either but at least people are still passing my name along (the editor was referred to me by an old workmate.) If Iíd had a website, I could have pointed the editor in that direction; instead, I created pdfs that matched the magazineís ďminimalist, classic, understated opulenceĒ vibe, but I know that the pdfs wonít adequately telegraph my abilities.

Anyway, Iím not too broken up about it. Yes, I could use the work/income, but itís pointless to get excited about things that havenít occurred. Maybe that should be one of my new yearís resolutions? To cultivate do- not-count-your-chickens-before-theyíve-hatched-itude? So far, Iíve adopted one of Gingeryetteís resolutions and that is, to make the bed everyday. It gives one a strange sense of satisfaction, and I say if a small action like making the bed can make you feel accomplished on a daily basis, then itís worth pursuing. Especially when you canít always count on yogis to give you intention.

9:20 a.m. - 2003-01-09



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