So, this past week has been a little nutso. Actually, the past two to 3 weeks. Gearing up and then shooting parts of a short film in my tiny apartment, then packing all the shit up and lugging it somewhere to do the same has been nothing short of a nightmare.
But, we did get it done. And that’s something. I’ll post updates soon.
I realized something, though, during this process. While precariously balancing on one foot, leaning over a basket of laundry to stick a component video cable out onto a fire escape in order to see inside what the shot the cameraman, who was outside, was shooting of inside the apartment (how’s that shake up your spinal cord?) I realized that I cannot wait to move.
I said it.
I’m even anxious… sometimes wishing it was sooner. And I don’t want to leave the city life, and friends and the like, but I can’t wait to slow down for a bit.
I can’t wait for a driveway. And more than 3 rooms. And down-home cookin’. I’m excited to sit on a deck with my in-laws, drinking and laughing (the Scotts know how to enjoy a party). I’m actually looking forward to going to the grocery store, knowing on my return that I don’t have to try to carry 3 bags apiece on each arm, to cut down on trips up the stairs. And I can’t wait for my wife to be happy, looking out a kitchen window, calling up her mother to come over for dinner, being around her family.
Sure, we could have most of that in any suburb. And that’s kinda the point. It doesn’t matter. It just so happens that the suburb we’ve chosen is in the middle of the country. And I love the coast, I love being on an ocean. But I can give that up for a little while. For a little peace and quiet.
And for enough space that, should I have to put a cable out a window, I can just walk up to it, open it, and throw the cable out.
Ah, luxury.