Monday, October 5, 2015

Jucier Math, Pt. 3.

There are 168 hours in a week.
I'm at work for at least 65 of them.
I'm on the road commuting to and from set an average of 10 hours a week.
Usually sleeping in my car for about 4.5 hours a week.*
And sleeping in my own bed about 48 hours a week.
I'm out around town causing havoc around 10 hours a week.**
That leaves an average of less than 5 hours a day where I'm awake and at home.
Minus an hour each day for showering, getting dressed and other personal grooming.
Minus another hour to account for the mundane tasks of doing laundry, paying the bills, loading the dishwasher, making the bed, etc.
Which gives me about an average of 2.35 hours a day*** of free time, which quite honestly, mostly consists of me in front of a screen of some sort (whether it be a Kindle, TV, computer, phone, movie theater, whatever).
Which begs the question, how the fuck did my apartment end up so messy when I have so little time??

Previously. And previously.

*Despite the long drive times, that's still me leaving early to avoid the worst part of morning traffic. Which means catching up on my sleep in the parking lot before work.
**And by causing havoc, I mean going to the bank, grocery store, dry cleaners, getting the oil changed in my car, and all the other errands that life consists of.
***Realistically, this isn't divided up evenly over 7 days due to work and (lack of) weekday life.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Fork In The Road.

I came upon a fork in the road. One led to a steady position as a lamp operator on a very well known show, while the other led to a higher position on a lesser known show.

I stood for the longest time at the damn fork, not knowing which path to take. One would lend a better job title to my resume while the other held a show name anyone would recognize whether they watched it or not.

The lamp op position held the possibility of advancement. But just a possibility. Not a guarantee. And nothing official as I'd only be covering for this person or that person for whatever reason until their absence become more permanent. In other words, I'd be the understudy of the department, ready to step in whenever needed. And I'd be working under familiar people who I respect on a creatively fascinating show.

The Best Boy position on the other path is one I've done before. And while I loved loved loved the job and the relief it gave my back from lifting coils of cable, I could've gotten along better with my boss, who rarely ever saw eye to eye with me on how to run things, making everything that much more difficult. There was a battle every day.

So which path do I chose?

The one with the lower job title on a prestigious show with good people?

Or the one that leads to a smaller show with a higher job title and a boss I don't necessarily like?

I'm standing at this crossroads, not knowing which path to take. I know I need to pick one soon and start my next journey, but I still have some time before the sun goes down. So for now, I think I'll stand here, staring at my choices, just a bit longer...

Sunday, August 16, 2015


I need a 10K going through the window.



Where's it going?

It's going [schkkschskch] in the we-[strcchhhkskksch]


[skckkschgcshhskkkscks] I got [schhfckkschkkschshchshrshhcksackfffkkgch] window.

Steppage. Can you go again, Gaffer?

It's going in the west bedroom window.


Is anyone getting that light?

Yeah, I [gcshkkshcksgskshcskfskacksschshsshkkcshgk]

I'll take that as a yes.


Yeah, I have the light. Can someone help me with the stand though?





Who the he-[gskkcshschhskchsshcagschhchsackkshsksa]








*"Steppage" is when someone steps on what you're saying over the radio. Film set walkies operate in half-duplex mode, which means you can either talk or listen, but not at the same time. So when someone's talking and someone "steps in" with a comment of their own, all everyone else hears is static. Loud, annoying, ear drum crushing static.

**And that, my friends, was how my whole last week went.

Monday, July 27, 2015

The Weather In L.A.

They say there's no weather in L.A.
That the seasons don't change.
Just because our winters don't snow.
And our summers aren't humid.
But we have seasons.
They change.
As sure as my next show will end, they change.
As sure as I change, they change.
The differences may be subtle, but they're there.
You can feel it in your bones.
You can see it in the sky.
You can sense it in the air.
The days get darker.
The nights longer.
The sun doesn't shine as bright.
And the moon hangs low.
Your body feels tired.
Exhausted and melancholy.
But soon enough,
When you've accepted the gray,
The light gradually comes back.
Little by little.
Day by day.
The sky gets brighter.
The nights not as long.
The morning sun makes skyscrapers shimmer like diamonds on the horizon.
And the moon takes its place at night.
You feel lighter,
With a bounce in your step.
Flowers bloom and the grass under your feet turns green again.
The dry, beige strands becoming nothing but a distant memory.
But as soon as you get used to the warmth on your face,
And the cloudless blue sky,
The breeze turns cool.
The clouds move in.
A shiver runs through you.
And the rain begins to fall.
The days get darker.
The nights longer.
The sun doesn't shine as bright.
And the moon hangs low.
You can sense it in the air.
You can see it in the sky.
You can feel it in your bones.
As sure as I change, the seasons change.
As sure as my next show will end, they change.
They change.
And I change with them.


Thursday, July 16, 2015


Peggy Archer touched on the subject of "mansplaining" a couple years ago, but for some reason, I didn't really understand the term until recently.

Maybe I didn't understand it until an FSO* came up to me when I was helping set up a light. We were shooting outside in a park and he explained to me why I shouldn't put a ballast on dry brush. I looked at the ballast I had just set down, confused as to where the danger was since it was sitting safely on a concrete slab with no woodsy debris around. I pointed to it, still confused on what I had done wrong to warrant such a lecture, and asked him if that was okay. "Yeah," he said, "I just wanted to make you aware of what you're not supposed to do for the future. I'm trying to teach you." I guess being female is what I did wrong because none of the males in my department got the same speech. Did I mention I was the Best Boy on that job?

Or maybe it was when I was checking out equipment that I finally understood the term. Since I've never dealt with this particular rental house and their paperwork wasn't very clear, I asked our floor guy if their ballasts usually came with a 220v snake bite. This apparently prompted him to give me a five minute lecture on what they're used for, how to use them, and what 220v means. Seriously? 1) It was a "yes" or "no" question. And 2) I've been in this industry for close to a decade now. I think I know what a 220v snake bite is.

Or perhaps it was the other day when a colleague "helpfully"** explained to me that the mockingbird the sound guy was bitching about was imitating a car alarm that I finally understood the meaning of the term.

Was the asshole mansplaining when he was quizzing me about my own equipment?

Was the other asshole mansplaining when I was warned that lights get hot?

Or when Douche Bag One explained a c-stand to me?

Was it mansplaining when Douche Bag Two wanted to "teach me" that the colors are supposed to match up when you connect banded?

What about that time when a dickhead actually explained breakfast to me?

Come to think of it, why did it take me so long to really understand what this term meant?

Can a man please explain it to me?

* Fire Safety Officer. He's basically there to ensure we keep fire lanes clear, we have an exit path should an emergency occur and make sure we don't (unintentionally) burn anything down.
** And by "helpfully," I mean I was sitting there minding my own business when said colleague actually got out of his seat, walked by others in our department, and stood in front of me just to "teach" me about this natural phenomenon... Which I was already aware of, thankyouverymuch.

Monday, July 6, 2015

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

I Hate It When...

... everyone that looks in your truck as they walk by has to stop in awe and comment, "Wow. Your truck is empty."*

Yeah. I know it's empty. It's called "getting peeled on days that ends with a 'y'."


* or "Hey, where did all your lights go? Hahaha." I'm sure I'd find that joke** to be funnier if we didn't just use every light we had while being ridiculously understaffed.

** Here's an oldie but a goodie:
"Our Gaffer's an 'available light' kind of guy."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. He uses every available light we have!"

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