I wrote that last post in February of last year but chose not to publish in the midst of some new movements in the work world. I was right about to start a completely new endeavor as an Associate Producer on a low budget feature film, and I didn't want to publicize any wavering commitment to the project or my newfound colleagues. We shot through March. It was a great experience, full of new people, new situations, a new headspace. And it jumpstarted a period of productivity I hadn't had in a long time.
2014 was the first year I was a real freelancer. I didn't apply for unemployment even once; I had fairly steady work. It felt good, to be sure. I didn't completely hate New York for the first time in two years. There was a moment at the end of June, when I'd finished all of the jobs I had going, when I finally looked around and had nothing to do for the first time in six months. It was a nice breather before the panic set in: am I a freelancer in a lull, or am I unemployed? Is this it for me, six months of good work and then I'm done? But fortunately by the end of July, I had another couple jobs come in. And that was an even more fantastic feeling.
Not that any of this is has been lucrative by any means. I miss my salary so much. Even a low salary is something, and it's something stable. None of this "we'll wait until the 30th day of the 30 days you gave us to pay you" bullshit. Last year I made a little more than half of what I was making at the University, and then there's that pesky little thing called taxes, which I'm not looking forward to for the first time ever.
But hey, the most important thing here is that things were looking up in 2014, and was I happy. Right? Not so fast.
The steadier work got (and man, was I thankful for that!), the more I cared what I was working on. What I'd written in February kept nagging away in the background: I'm not feeling fulfilled, there is a disconnect here. For jobs on which I was just the editor, I could engage with the content only very little. I missed thinking about the content and actively getting a worthwhile message across.
My work with the American Museum of Natural History has been a godsend in this regard. They have so many great things going on there, and I'm really happy and always grateful to be a part of what they're doing and the messages they're sending to the public.
And working in close proximity to education again has helped me solidify my decision to apply to grad school. After talking about it for a year, I finally submitted my applications to three great schools. And after batting around multiple ideas about how to best approach my interest in psychology, I finally found the most amazing program I didn't even know I was looking for: a cognitive studies in education program that specifically explores how we learn and how such knowledge can be applied to other topics, such as media. Sesame Street may not be so far away after all. I find out in March.
Showing posts with label self-realization. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-realization. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Do the Hokey Pokey
February 11, 2014
Something's not right. As I sat in bed last night reading Peter Hessler's Oracle Bones (a long overdue read for someone who devoted so many years to studying China and the Chinese language), I was finally able to put words to the creeping feeling I've been getting for the past few months. I miss thinking. I miss thinking critically. And working in video production isn't providing this important need for me.
SM and I waded through accumulated, muddled feelings together to get down to the root causes. When I was in college, my intention was to use my skills both technical and mental, to think and do, in the world of media. I was drawn to cinematography because of the combination of technical precision and big picture grasp of art, of art and science, that was intrinsic to the work. But after it became apparent how quickly film as a medium was waning in the industry, I lost hope that the technical skill of video would measure up to that of film. Instead I turned to producing because I would be able to stimulate both sides of myself if I applied my skills to organizing and thinking through the creative process. I thought that with the right partners in the creative realm, I'd be able to both think and do.
I've always been most comfortable in a supporting role. I've never been the writer/director type; instead I've always said that I'm the one who helps translate other people's visions to reality. Additionally, I want my work to mean something to others, to help on another level by informing and educating others. It's one reason why I was attracted to documentaries and non-fiction production. Fiction film, on the other hand, seemed more selfish for me to actually take part in. Obviously I love fiction films, and I think there's a lot there to think about (hence this blog), but when taking part in a fiction production, part of me can't fully commit because I don't believe I'm contributing to society. Part of me wishes that I could be an artist who is compelled to make art and thus justify bringing in tens of people to execute my visions. The same goes for thinking about going to back to school for film theory. But that's just not me. It's an odd desire, but I wanted to help someone else help the world.
My dream job used to be working at Sesame Street. I wanted to create the content that would help kids learn and be ready for school, just as Sesame Workshop's mission states. The catch is that I wanted to create that content in every sense of the word. I wanted to be Joan Ganz Cooney and Jim Henson. But those jobs don't exist, less now than ever. Sesame Street's production is actually done by a few third party production companies, where shooting and editing content is divorced from its conception, writing, and even puppeteering. It's been a real example of the market for video for me, a telling dead end on the path toward my non-existent ideal occupation.
At this point arriving at this conclusion, that I can't really tell someone else's story or explain someone else's information without ceding some control of the full capacity of my brain power, seems like common sense. It's hard to do and think critically on behalf of someone else, especially in such a specialized and growing industry. But I guess I had my hopes up because I was looking for a place where I could put my whole self into my work.
It's interesting how each step of my career has been a test to drill down to what I'm really looking for. When I was in college, I was running on all cylinders, nurturing my mind in all aspects as I learned about film theory and history along with the technical aspects of film production. When I moved into my first full time position, I continued to feed my curiosity through the content I was working on, even while the rigor of production wasn't too demanding. It was moving away from the engaging material and leaning solely on my production skills that started me questioning whether or not this was my calling. "Okay, so it's the content I'm missing," I thought. "I need to find a place where my approach, where critical thinking, will be valued as an asset." But the catch is that more I look (and this is an experiment conducted over 8 months of unemployment and then some), the more I'm beginning to think such a place doesn't exist. Furthermore, even if I were to find a few like-minded people and start my own venture, I'm not sure our niche would even be seen as a marketable edge over the competition. It's just not what the people want.
So, forget what the people want; what do I want? I want to help people. I want to think critically and do good. I want to use my whole self.
For these and other reasons I am aching to go back to school. I want to learn something new, and then I want to apply it in a realm that needs my assistance. I have always been interested in how things work and how things can run in the most efficient and best way possible, and I have also always been interested in applying such questions to people. It's part of what I wanted to bring to cinematography, to understand how characters were thinking and to help convey that to viewers. My new path is toward understanding the human mind and helping them through therapy and counseling, as counselors have helped me. Furthermore, I hope that by going into a profession that offers more stability both in my mind and in my bank account I will also be able to better pursue my interests in video, to actually afford to buy my own camera and to go to the movies and think about film in ways that I can't while spending time hustling for rent and happiness—always doing and rarely thinking as much as I would like.
Something's not right. As I sat in bed last night reading Peter Hessler's Oracle Bones (a long overdue read for someone who devoted so many years to studying China and the Chinese language), I was finally able to put words to the creeping feeling I've been getting for the past few months. I miss thinking. I miss thinking critically. And working in video production isn't providing this important need for me.
SM and I waded through accumulated, muddled feelings together to get down to the root causes. When I was in college, my intention was to use my skills both technical and mental, to think and do, in the world of media. I was drawn to cinematography because of the combination of technical precision and big picture grasp of art, of art and science, that was intrinsic to the work. But after it became apparent how quickly film as a medium was waning in the industry, I lost hope that the technical skill of video would measure up to that of film. Instead I turned to producing because I would be able to stimulate both sides of myself if I applied my skills to organizing and thinking through the creative process. I thought that with the right partners in the creative realm, I'd be able to both think and do.
I've always been most comfortable in a supporting role. I've never been the writer/director type; instead I've always said that I'm the one who helps translate other people's visions to reality. Additionally, I want my work to mean something to others, to help on another level by informing and educating others. It's one reason why I was attracted to documentaries and non-fiction production. Fiction film, on the other hand, seemed more selfish for me to actually take part in. Obviously I love fiction films, and I think there's a lot there to think about (hence this blog), but when taking part in a fiction production, part of me can't fully commit because I don't believe I'm contributing to society. Part of me wishes that I could be an artist who is compelled to make art and thus justify bringing in tens of people to execute my visions. The same goes for thinking about going to back to school for film theory. But that's just not me. It's an odd desire, but I wanted to help someone else help the world.
My dream job used to be working at Sesame Street. I wanted to create the content that would help kids learn and be ready for school, just as Sesame Workshop's mission states. The catch is that I wanted to create that content in every sense of the word. I wanted to be Joan Ganz Cooney and Jim Henson. But those jobs don't exist, less now than ever. Sesame Street's production is actually done by a few third party production companies, where shooting and editing content is divorced from its conception, writing, and even puppeteering. It's been a real example of the market for video for me, a telling dead end on the path toward my non-existent ideal occupation.
At this point arriving at this conclusion, that I can't really tell someone else's story or explain someone else's information without ceding some control of the full capacity of my brain power, seems like common sense. It's hard to do and think critically on behalf of someone else, especially in such a specialized and growing industry. But I guess I had my hopes up because I was looking for a place where I could put my whole self into my work.
It's interesting how each step of my career has been a test to drill down to what I'm really looking for. When I was in college, I was running on all cylinders, nurturing my mind in all aspects as I learned about film theory and history along with the technical aspects of film production. When I moved into my first full time position, I continued to feed my curiosity through the content I was working on, even while the rigor of production wasn't too demanding. It was moving away from the engaging material and leaning solely on my production skills that started me questioning whether or not this was my calling. "Okay, so it's the content I'm missing," I thought. "I need to find a place where my approach, where critical thinking, will be valued as an asset." But the catch is that more I look (and this is an experiment conducted over 8 months of unemployment and then some), the more I'm beginning to think such a place doesn't exist. Furthermore, even if I were to find a few like-minded people and start my own venture, I'm not sure our niche would even be seen as a marketable edge over the competition. It's just not what the people want.
So, forget what the people want; what do I want? I want to help people. I want to think critically and do good. I want to use my whole self.
For these and other reasons I am aching to go back to school. I want to learn something new, and then I want to apply it in a realm that needs my assistance. I have always been interested in how things work and how things can run in the most efficient and best way possible, and I have also always been interested in applying such questions to people. It's part of what I wanted to bring to cinematography, to understand how characters were thinking and to help convey that to viewers. My new path is toward understanding the human mind and helping them through therapy and counseling, as counselors have helped me. Furthermore, I hope that by going into a profession that offers more stability both in my mind and in my bank account I will also be able to better pursue my interests in video, to actually afford to buy my own camera and to go to the movies and think about film in ways that I can't while spending time hustling for rent and happiness—always doing and rarely thinking as much as I would like.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
First Impressions
It can be incredibly unnerving to have your reputation precede you. It is simultaneously flattering, frightening, and intimidating that others have spoken of you, that their friends have formed a picture to which they will compare you from then on. Whether positive or negative, you can add to that portrait or shatter it.
I am perpetually frustrated that I am doomed to be trapped inside my own head, never able to see myself without an intimate knowledge of myself and my own neuroses. What does what we do for our own reasons look like to everyone else who is not privy to those incentives? What do other people see when they meet you? How does that change as they get to know you?
Anyway, one of my closest friends, JW, had an engagement party (in celebration of her engagement, of course, but also her civil union -- her husband, JD, is from out of the country, meaning lots of paperwork ahead that they'd like to settle sooner rather than later). When I met 2 of my fellow bridesmaids, her other best friends from college, the first words out of their mouths were, "this is the Tiff?" "It's so great to finally meet you!" Of course I had heard loads about them and was happy to finally meet them as well, but I was immediately caught off guard -- what does that mean? What could they possibly know about me that I don't? We talked for a while, and JW came over. "She's so great! I love her!" they said. "I know, right?" JW responded, as if there was something I wasn't in on; they'd clearly talked about this before. I honestly don't get it. I thought they were really nice and really cool, and we certainly share some interests, but I kept getting the nagging feeling there was something I was missing, and it weirded me out.
I admitted this to SM the next morning: what is it that people see that I can't? How drastic a difference is the sense of our selves we get in our own heads from the self we are actually projecting to others? Obviously I know no one else is privy to my inner monologue, but one thing SM brought up that I hadn't thought of before was that what I take for granted may be what others lack and what they like in me. For example, he said, his mother finds me to be "warm," and he used the word "genuine" too. In discussing what those descriptions could possibly mean, we mapped it back to what I always thought was just asking questions about people and things because I actually wanted to know. Apparently not everyone does that? I've also been accused of far worse -- being cold, being moody -- but in my head, there's always a reason, whether it's not knowing what to say; trying to internally wrestle with whether or not I'm doing the right thing; or watching my precious plans crumble before my eyes, leaving me helpless and clueless. Fortunately SM has learned to pick up on all of those things, and he knows how to read the situation and act or not act accordingly.
I'm sure everyone has their own reasons for everything, then, right? Is getting to know someone just familiarizing yourself with the differential between the inner workings of one's brain and the person you met that first time, the projection of that person in that first impression? Can you be close to someone without being familiar with that differential? Is Person X really such a bitch in their own head as they are in real life?
I'm reminded of a 30 Rock scene in which we see that Liz's impressions of high school -- mainly that everyone shunned her because she was such a nerd -- were completely devoid of reality, and that it was she who was really the one who was harsh and outspoken. I had a similar experience with a friend a few months ago. It's less about what others think than the idea of not knowing myself: did I really do that? Did I really hurt you? I had no idea. The oblivion is unnerving. If really knowing someone is indeed somewhat dependent upon being okay with that space between the inner workings of my head and the outer manifestations thereof, then I don't really think I am very well acquainted with me.
I am perpetually frustrated that I am doomed to be trapped inside my own head, never able to see myself without an intimate knowledge of myself and my own neuroses. What does what we do for our own reasons look like to everyone else who is not privy to those incentives? What do other people see when they meet you? How does that change as they get to know you?
Anyway, one of my closest friends, JW, had an engagement party (in celebration of her engagement, of course, but also her civil union -- her husband, JD, is from out of the country, meaning lots of paperwork ahead that they'd like to settle sooner rather than later). When I met 2 of my fellow bridesmaids, her other best friends from college, the first words out of their mouths were, "this is the Tiff?" "It's so great to finally meet you!" Of course I had heard loads about them and was happy to finally meet them as well, but I was immediately caught off guard -- what does that mean? What could they possibly know about me that I don't? We talked for a while, and JW came over. "She's so great! I love her!" they said. "I know, right?" JW responded, as if there was something I wasn't in on; they'd clearly talked about this before. I honestly don't get it. I thought they were really nice and really cool, and we certainly share some interests, but I kept getting the nagging feeling there was something I was missing, and it weirded me out.
I admitted this to SM the next morning: what is it that people see that I can't? How drastic a difference is the sense of our selves we get in our own heads from the self we are actually projecting to others? Obviously I know no one else is privy to my inner monologue, but one thing SM brought up that I hadn't thought of before was that what I take for granted may be what others lack and what they like in me. For example, he said, his mother finds me to be "warm," and he used the word "genuine" too. In discussing what those descriptions could possibly mean, we mapped it back to what I always thought was just asking questions about people and things because I actually wanted to know. Apparently not everyone does that? I've also been accused of far worse -- being cold, being moody -- but in my head, there's always a reason, whether it's not knowing what to say; trying to internally wrestle with whether or not I'm doing the right thing; or watching my precious plans crumble before my eyes, leaving me helpless and clueless. Fortunately SM has learned to pick up on all of those things, and he knows how to read the situation and act or not act accordingly.
I'm sure everyone has their own reasons for everything, then, right? Is getting to know someone just familiarizing yourself with the differential between the inner workings of one's brain and the person you met that first time, the projection of that person in that first impression? Can you be close to someone without being familiar with that differential? Is Person X really such a bitch in their own head as they are in real life?
I'm reminded of a 30 Rock scene in which we see that Liz's impressions of high school -- mainly that everyone shunned her because she was such a nerd -- were completely devoid of reality, and that it was she who was really the one who was harsh and outspoken. I had a similar experience with a friend a few months ago. It's less about what others think than the idea of not knowing myself: did I really do that? Did I really hurt you? I had no idea. The oblivion is unnerving. If really knowing someone is indeed somewhat dependent upon being okay with that space between the inner workings of my head and the outer manifestations thereof, then I don't really think I am very well acquainted with me.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Inward Observations: Part 2 of ∞
Maybe I'm just drawing false connections, but sometimes it seems as if there are these clusters of meaning or themes that coalesce into something that begs to be divined. The tea leaves are spelling something out, and while I don't know why exactly, it seems foolish to pass them by without pondering them for a bit.
This time, I think the key term here is "mission statement," or some approximation of it. For one thing, tomorrow we're going to start working on defining our office's mission at work during a group retreat (part two, actually). For another thing, I sat down for crepes and chai with my friend MS for a couple of hours yesterday, and among other topics we talked about how she is sure to make a list of things that are true about herself, so that whenever she's not so sure or she's in danger of losing herself, she can look back at that list and gain a little more confidence and a firmer grasp on who she wants to be. We both talked about what our lists look like. I've never been one for seeking out inspiration in anything but a modest way, but I did find it interesting that, while I'd focused more on what I want out of a job, her statements had a lot more to do with herself without the job, without other people, and with little to do with time or place. It was as if she stripped everything away and then added the essentials back in. My job has definitely helped me define a lot of what I want, but I guess it's not the whole picture. It's about what's important to me.
So let's see here (I had some help from SM)...
- I think I'd rather be doing good than promoting good. And I don't mean that in a halo-earning sense, but rather in an actually-benefiting-someone sense. Even that is pretty broad, though, and I interpret that benefit pretty loosely, albeit as directly as possible.
- Authenticity is important to me, and thus try to put myself in as few inauthentic moments as possible. This leads to really enjoying time with people I actually like, and trying to minimize time with most other people. I don't want to spend time lying to myself or others; it's draining and pointless.
- My friends are very important to me. It's a given that I will always do what I can to be there for them, whether it's showing up at their events or listening to them.
- I will pretty much do anything for my family. I will always do what I can to support them.
- Learning means a lot to me. I like being informed, but I also like the act of learning. I also like learning about others learning and helping others learn in the best ways for them.
- I'm no fun sometimes because I take life too seriously, but that's okay. I think someone has to take life seriously because otherwise we wouldn't accomplish anything.
- I like understanding how things work and using that knowledge to get things done and make things work better. Practical application is fascinating (and necessary).
- Being resourceful and exploring the best way to do something means a lot to me. Taking the initiative to look for the best method is commendable and also efficient in the end.
I think that's a start. I'm not very happy with the list, actually, because it seems so narcissistic, but I think the concept is sound and certainly helpful if you ever feel so buried or disconnected from yourself. Do you think I'm missing anything from my list? What would you have on your list?
This time, I think the key term here is "mission statement," or some approximation of it. For one thing, tomorrow we're going to start working on defining our office's mission at work during a group retreat (part two, actually). For another thing, I sat down for crepes and chai with my friend MS for a couple of hours yesterday, and among other topics we talked about how she is sure to make a list of things that are true about herself, so that whenever she's not so sure or she's in danger of losing herself, she can look back at that list and gain a little more confidence and a firmer grasp on who she wants to be. We both talked about what our lists look like. I've never been one for seeking out inspiration in anything but a modest way, but I did find it interesting that, while I'd focused more on what I want out of a job, her statements had a lot more to do with herself without the job, without other people, and with little to do with time or place. It was as if she stripped everything away and then added the essentials back in. My job has definitely helped me define a lot of what I want, but I guess it's not the whole picture. It's about what's important to me.
So let's see here (I had some help from SM)...
- I think I'd rather be doing good than promoting good. And I don't mean that in a halo-earning sense, but rather in an actually-benefiting-someone sense. Even that is pretty broad, though, and I interpret that benefit pretty loosely, albeit as directly as possible.
- Authenticity is important to me, and thus try to put myself in as few inauthentic moments as possible. This leads to really enjoying time with people I actually like, and trying to minimize time with most other people. I don't want to spend time lying to myself or others; it's draining and pointless.
- My friends are very important to me. It's a given that I will always do what I can to be there for them, whether it's showing up at their events or listening to them.
- I will pretty much do anything for my family. I will always do what I can to support them.
- Learning means a lot to me. I like being informed, but I also like the act of learning. I also like learning about others learning and helping others learn in the best ways for them.
- I'm no fun sometimes because I take life too seriously, but that's okay. I think someone has to take life seriously because otherwise we wouldn't accomplish anything.
- I like understanding how things work and using that knowledge to get things done and make things work better. Practical application is fascinating (and necessary).
- Being resourceful and exploring the best way to do something means a lot to me. Taking the initiative to look for the best method is commendable and also efficient in the end.
I think that's a start. I'm not very happy with the list, actually, because it seems so narcissistic, but I think the concept is sound and certainly helpful if you ever feel so buried or disconnected from yourself. Do you think I'm missing anything from my list? What would you have on your list?
Monday, August 23, 2010
Inward Observations: part 1 of ∞
1. I think I need a career that can offer lots of independence. I like setting goals for myself that are tied to larger, more life-affirming, and practical aspects of life (i.e. education, conflict resolution, health, etc.), as opposed to being obliged to adhere to goals set for me that are tied to smaller, subjective, shorter-term initiatives.
2. The things I like best about my current job are the editing and the shooting, when I can fully immerse myself in the creation of a solid product. I don't particularly like troubling myself with the distribution or the client desires, but when I do, I am often disappointed with the relatively small sphere of influence, short term goals, and/or enthusiasm over what I see as proportionately small events/meaning.
3. I like working with something hands-on, and I learn better by doing.
4. I'm really bad at being fake, and I hate having to be fake. Fake smiles, fake interest, and fake enthusiasm tire me out. Relatedly, impressing anyone besides those I care about is never high on my list.
5. My hopes for something are almost always trumped by possible realities. I'll get really excited about something if the logistics are there to support its potential.
6. More than approval or praise, I want feedback.
7. I like when questions have a purpose, for example to come closer to a conclusion, when someone truly cares, or when the information will be used for something.
8. Inefficient systems and unnecessary elements irk me.
9. The test to pass is whether or not the issues one talks about in a meeting have any implications outside of that particular closed community. Immigration? Yes. The history of film? Yes. An upcoming community event? Doesn't excite me.
Given all of this, what is the best career for me?
2. The things I like best about my current job are the editing and the shooting, when I can fully immerse myself in the creation of a solid product. I don't particularly like troubling myself with the distribution or the client desires, but when I do, I am often disappointed with the relatively small sphere of influence, short term goals, and/or enthusiasm over what I see as proportionately small events/meaning.
3. I like working with something hands-on, and I learn better by doing.
4. I'm really bad at being fake, and I hate having to be fake. Fake smiles, fake interest, and fake enthusiasm tire me out. Relatedly, impressing anyone besides those I care about is never high on my list.
5. My hopes for something are almost always trumped by possible realities. I'll get really excited about something if the logistics are there to support its potential.
6. More than approval or praise, I want feedback.
7. I like when questions have a purpose, for example to come closer to a conclusion, when someone truly cares, or when the information will be used for something.
8. Inefficient systems and unnecessary elements irk me.
9. The test to pass is whether or not the issues one talks about in a meeting have any implications outside of that particular closed community. Immigration? Yes. The history of film? Yes. An upcoming community event? Doesn't excite me.
Given all of this, what is the best career for me?
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