rue-madame's Diaryland
Diary
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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 he�d gotten himself into something he had no understanding of. Plus he felt like an industrial design failure because he�s gone from �designer� to �decorator.� So he called a friend of ours who�s a script supervisor to ask some questions, and she said set decorating�s no problem, you�ll just be moving shit around, following orders, so where�s 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: It�s a car commercial. SS: Oh my god! I�m 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 didn�t have to agonize over a letter, or a resume, or a portfolio to get the job. c) he didn�t 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 didn�t have to meet anyone in person or do a little tap dance. Sure, it�s probably going to be menial work, but at least it�s 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 you�re there; you meet people and talk to folks who aren�t me. I am most excited about Terence getting out there and meeting folks. If I didn�t 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 haven�t heard back from that company that wanted an invitation designed yesterday, and it�s just as well. I really don�t 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 I�d be interested in working on a magazine. The world works in mysterious ways. I probably won�t 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 I�d had a website, I could have pointed the editor in that direction; instead, I created pdfs that matched the magazine�s �minimalist, classic, understated opulence� vibe, but I know that the pdfs won�t adequately telegraph my abilities. Anyway, I�m not too broken up about it. Yes, I could use the work/income, but it�s pointless to get excited about things that haven�t occurred. Maybe that should be one of my new year�s resolutions? To cultivate do- not-count-your-chickens-before-they�ve-hatched-itude? So far, I�ve adopted one of Gingeryette�s 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 it�s worth pursuing. Especially when you can�t always count on yogis to give you intention.
9:20 a.m. - 2003-01-09
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