In 2010 four friends and I sat together and started a film production company. What we wanted was to make films, because we loved movies and great stories and thought we could do it better than everyone else because we were smarter, more talented and more innovative than everyone else, and so no one else had ever thought about it and we were going to be the ones to change the movie industry in our country for good.
And then we awoke from our slumber.
One of the first lessons I learned is that everyone has good ideas, your ideas aren't as good as you think they are, and several other someone-else's have had your greatest idea.
By the end of 2010 we were now four friends in total, one man down and a little shook up for it. We figured we'd go along with it and see where it took us, what's the worst that could happen, eh.
In 2016 we were selected to show our third movie at the Toronto International Film Festival.
Now that's one heck of a happy ending.
Except, it's not the end, not even nearly. TIFF means, "what are you guys working on next?" and "wow, that's so great, congrats," and, "what exactly do you do, exactly?"
What, it's not enough that I'm on the team? That it was our dream, that we're all here, that my name is in the credits, that I'm in the official photos? You need more?
Wah, story of my life.
I studied English in the university, so I've been getting that since I was seventeen, and until I worked in an art foundation, I didn't realise there were lesser creative subjects on the societal-acceptance totem pole. Since then I've needed to find increasingly vague ways to describe the choices I have made to live the life I currently lead. The life of a creative has no financial rewards unless you are Beyonce and Will Smith (and everyone knows they sold their your souls to the illuminati).
TIFF gave me validation for all of two seconds, but now everyone wants to know what I'm doing next. I don't know what I'm doing next, is that allowed? I'm properly an adult so I can't hide behind my youth anymore and now the "congratulations" give me failing-at-life anxiety.
"So many people would be so grateful for the opportunity you have."
I know that. What I need to know now is what to do with all these opportunities I've heard I've landed, you know?
But you don't want to hear me whine.
And then we awoke from our slumber.
One of the first lessons I learned is that everyone has good ideas, your ideas aren't as good as you think they are, and several other someone-else's have had your greatest idea.
By the end of 2010 we were now four friends in total, one man down and a little shook up for it. We figured we'd go along with it and see where it took us, what's the worst that could happen, eh.
In 2016 we were selected to show our third movie at the Toronto International Film Festival.
Now that's one heck of a happy ending.
Except, it's not the end, not even nearly. TIFF means, "what are you guys working on next?" and "wow, that's so great, congrats," and, "what exactly do you do, exactly?"
What, it's not enough that I'm on the team? That it was our dream, that we're all here, that my name is in the credits, that I'm in the official photos? You need more?
Wah, story of my life.
I studied English in the university, so I've been getting that since I was seventeen, and until I worked in an art foundation, I didn't realise there were lesser creative subjects on the societal-acceptance totem pole. Since then I've needed to find increasingly vague ways to describe the choices I have made to live the life I currently lead. The life of a creative has no financial rewards unless you are Beyonce and Will Smith (and everyone knows they sold their your souls to the illuminati).
TIFF gave me validation for all of two seconds, but now everyone wants to know what I'm doing next. I don't know what I'm doing next, is that allowed? I'm properly an adult so I can't hide behind my youth anymore and now the "congratulations" give me failing-at-life anxiety.
"So many people would be so grateful for the opportunity you have."
I know that. What I need to know now is what to do with all these opportunities I've heard I've landed, you know?
But you don't want to hear me whine.
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