End of Summer

Well, it’s kinda gone from 0 to 100 the last little bit. Work has picked back up again and thankfully I’m booked all this week. Sunday had me working a music shoot in the city, then off to Florida Monday through Friday for a corporate job in Orlando, followed by another music shoot back in NYC on Saturday.

It’s comforting to be back on sets and even more so to hear from other crew members also harping on how slow things have been the last couple months. One of the DPs I hung out with recently mentioned spending his down time at the beach and surfing all summer; another buddy along with his wife and kids spent the last few months back with family in Texas. Oklahoma summers were slow, but this year as a newbie in the city was brutal. Now that I have at least a rough idea of how the year works here Saint Anne the Wife and I are already planning ahead for next summer.

Feast or famine. Feast or famine.

One thing I'll say about my summer down time – plus a kick in the pants from this documentary about bookstores and reading – is I’ve had the opportunity to plow through more books than I have in years. I just finished reading Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and some of it felt appropriate in how I’m feeling right now. I’m not looking to mass produce populations, further a caste system, or sell you on the virtues of soma, but I still believe in the idea that nothing worthwhile is ever easy.

My freelancing experience is crazy unpredictable and absolutely rough, but at times can be insanely rewarding. The worlds I get to personally visit where I’d not be allowed otherwise along with the flexibility, sense of adventure, and rush of doing good work in a high pressure situation make those panic attacks and stressful periods worth it.

Here's a rough recap of Brave New World if you've not read the book or it's been a minute since you have.

Mustapha Mond: "The world's stable now. People are happy; they get what they want, and they never want what they can't get. They're well off; they're safe; they're never ill; they're not afraid of death; they're blissfully ignorant of passion and old age; they're plagued with no mothers or fathers; they've got no wives, or children, or lovers to feel strongly about; they're so conditioned that they practically can't help behaving as they ought to behave."
John the Savage: “But I like the inconveniences.”
Mustapha Mond: “We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”
“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”
"In fact," said Mustapha Mond, "you're claiming the right to be unhappy."
"All right then, said the Savage defiantly, "I'm claiming the right to be unhappy."
"Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly...; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow..." There was a long silence.
"I claim them all," said the Savage at last.
Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. "You're welcome," he said.

Just a heads up: it doesn't end well for John the Savage.
Another heads up: I'm not John the Savage nor do I plan to be.