Day . . . Whatever, I Don't Feel Like Counting

I'm eating a baller sandwich over here - it's called The Soprano, at the Variety Deli right across the street from the theater. It's got prosciutto, sun-dried tomato paste, and . . . lots of other sundry delicious things. Also, in news of how awesome my boss is, Simon walks into the theater and pulls out a little Tupperware. "Here," he says, handing it to me, "it's soup. You don't have a kitchen. Just thought you might want some." I've had a few great bosses in my day (Kitty being one of them - the woman who gave me a gift card to Hunter-Gatherer just because she appreciated the hard work I put in), but that's one of the more thoughtful things an employer has ever done for me. It really warmed my heart. It's good soup, too.

It's still cold here. I talked to the two Aarons and Paul the TD (that's how we refer to them, because there are at least two Aarons and two Pauls), and they reassured me that this kind of cold is very unseasonal. I played up my Little Southern Girl charm and told them something about how I just hadn't been expecting it, but they also guaranteed me that it would be in the 80s by Saturday (thank God). British Aaron (Sarah's future man) and Paul the TD hung the last two projectors, which was a bit of a task in itself, because the lenses had to be shifted, the keystone had to be . . . fixed, and the angles had to be right. Think of two projectors, hanging seventeen feet in the air and about ten feet apart, pointed towards each other. Julia aptly described it as the "dueling projector scenario," which presented a myriad of problems as we tried to be sure neither projector threw a shadow in the other's throw. And then, as if that wasn't enough, we have errant lights that are pointed straight down (which is to say, totally useless) whose purpose no one seems to understand.

If I were into theater at all, I could get an internship with 3LD. I'm thinking about it, honestly - I should be getting my 499 MART credits for what I'm doing with Simon, but it wouldn't hurt at all to have an extra couple of things on my resume, along with the brilliant letters of recommendation that it could bring me. Even though I'm not a big fan of this grid system that means being so far above the ground without any kind of safety, I've made several fans while working at the theater, and might be able to exploit those contacts once Simon's finished needing me.

You know why I'm old? I see a group of four or more teenagers and start getting nervous.

Lo and behold, there was more rotoscoping to do. There will be much more in my future, and the fact that I'm doing this set really painstakingly carefully will probably pay off in the end, but the fact that I spent five hours working on a five second sequence is legitimately tragic. I don't know if I've gotten so much slower, or if this one was just so much more difficult (it was), but either way, I'll be up a good part of the night working on it again. After Effects, I've come to realize, is like a really stubborn teenager. You tell it to do something. It fights you. You finally assert enough of your authority to force it, but just out of spite, it does what you say to a much higher degree than you can accommodate. You tell it not to be bitchy like that, so it goes as far as it can in the opposite direction. Damn teenagers . . .

I miss the familiarity of home today. I miss walking out of my door and having a clear sense of left and right, here and there. Even the ability to get from place to place efficiently, to know where things are enough to go out and get something on a whim. It probably sounds funny - maybe more ungrateful than anything else. It's a huge adventure, but it's also an inconvenient one at times. The subway is excellent for some things, but I guess I just wasn't used to having to wait on anyone at home.