Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Adventures In Excessive Shushing, pt. 3.

Real thing that happened on set today:

P.A.: "Rolling!"
Other P.A.: "SHHHH!"

Yup. A P.A. shushed another P.A. for calling out "Rolling."


Sunday, July 9, 2017

It's Hot As Fuck Out And I Don't Know What To Wear To Work.

It's a typical Southern California day. Sun shining, one or two fluffy clouds in a bright blue sky, with temperatures on the slightly warmer side of comfortable.

I'm taking a break outside the stage between set ups, enjoying some warmth and vitamin D while shooting the shit with some drivers next to the crafty trailer when one of them points out a set dresser loading furniture on to a truck.

"Look at her," he says with almost disgust in his voice. "Look at what she's wearing. I know she's new to this business and all, so I went up to her earlier as a friend and told her what she's wearing was inappropriate, but she just brushed it off. Don't you think what she's wearing is inappropriate here, A.J.?"

I look down the alley at the girl. She's wearing brightly colored shorts that stop a couple inches below her butt and a tight tank top that fit her well. If she wasn't wearing work gloves, she'd look more like she was ready to spend the day walking around the Venice Beach Boardwalk than on a studio lot.

I turned to the driver and shrugged. "I'm not going to say what a woman can and cannot wear. She's an adult and can make her own choices," I said. The driver dropped the subject and I went back in shortly after.

And while what I said was true, that she's a grown woman capable of making her own choices and I'm not going to slut-shame a fellow female for what she's wearing, the question still lingers: Was her outfit inappropriate for the workplace? More specifically, a work place where t-shirts and shorts are acceptable attire three four seasons out of the year (this is SoCal, after all)?

Would I personally wear something like she did to work? No. But I also wouldn't wear those god-awful t-shirt tanks with the sides cut out either, which no one bats an eye at when a guy is wearing one on set. I also wouldn't run around the perms with my shirt off and I've seen plenty of guys do that, too. And again, no one bats an eye at that.

And would her attire have caused such a ruckus among the guys if they were darker colors instead of neon and pastels that made her stand out like a steak on a bed of salad? What it she was in her 40s or 50s instead of her early 20s? Would her shorts and tank top be inappropriate then?

If I ever re-live that conversation from that day, I think I would ask him what about her outfit was inappropriate. Was she showing a lot of skin? Yes, but so do a lot of the other guys we work with (see above paragraphs). And especially when it's hot out and especially when your job is moving heavy objects around all day. Is it a safety violation? Somewhere written in some guidelines states that we should all be wearing pants, long sleeves and steel toed work boots, but 98% of us don't even come close to following that rule. So she's technically not breaking anymore safety rules than any one of us. Hell, it could even be said that her clothes are safer since there's less loose fabric to get caught on things.

Does her attire impede her from doing her job? No. From what I saw, she made more trips to that truck than her colleagues.

Is she maybe drawing unwanted attention to herself? Yes. Will some people take one look at the way she's dressed and assume she's only hired to be eye-candy? Yes. But I feel like that's more their problem than hers, not to mention that there are some assholes that will think that no matter what she wears.

The bottom line is that her important bits and pieces are covered, she's not violating any safety rules more than the next guy, and she's still able to do her job. If what she's wearing is inappropriate, then someone should implement guidelines that we all need to follow, instead of just singling out women just because they happen to look good in a pair of shorts.

Monday, June 26, 2017

Adventures In Excessive Shushing, pt. 2.

Dear P.A.s doing lock ups,

You have a job to do. I get it. If someone makes a peep on set while we're rolling, all hell breaks loose on your walkie channel (and in turn, in your ear) about finding the source of the sound and eliminating it.

We all totally understand it.

All we ask is that you use a little bit of common sense and judgement before you go all ape-shit on us for making the tiniest bit of noise.

Shushing us when we're ten feet away from video village and giggling at a YouTube video? Fair game. Shush away!

But when the set and video village is in the back room of a sizable house and I'm outside in the front, down the long driveway and on the other side of the property wall? Did you really have to shush me for cracking open a bottle of water? Really?

Trust me when I say that no one's going to hear that when there's three walls and 150 feet between us, so the vein popping "SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!1!!!" you threw in my direction was totally unnecessary.

-Crews everywhere.


Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Set Photo Of The Day.

I don't even want to know what prompted the creation of this sign... For a built set... In the middle of a sound stage... Oh, and the set only has three walls.

Nope, don't wanna know...

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Marry The Night.

"Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don't you go down."
-Northern Downpour Panic! At The Disco

Most people dread night shoots. Most people get a sour look on their face when they see "5pm crew call" written on the top of the prelim.*

Me? I don't mind them so much. Since I'm a night owl anyway, switching from a day schedule to a night one isn't that hard for me. Plus, unlike most days, there's a definite end in sight. The company can only shoot night scenes until sunrise, and this time of year, that usually limits us to a 12 hour day, or less. And who doesn't like the sound of that?

But sometimes, I will admit, I wish the nights were longer. Sometimes, the weather is calm and just right; the city is quiet and still; the crew is jovial and in sync with each other; and your own department is taking a rare night off from drama. Crafty is bringing in a food truck and a coffee truck, and it feels less like work and more like a social thing. Sometimes, things just click.

Sometimes, you have a moment where you sit on the back of a tailgate, surrounded by your favorite people and just shoot the shit while looking at the stars. Sometimes, you get so caught up with running around in the day time so you can get home that you miss the night and what it has to offer. The quiet and peace that it can bring. The darkness that allows the city to twinkle and shimmer.

Sometimes, with the rest of the world so quiet and asleep, you feel like you have the whole city to yourself. Sometimes, it feels like your show is in it's own happy little bubble. It's like the best parts of a good day without any interruptions from the real world.

Call me crazy, but sometimes, the night shoots changes your crew in a good way. And sometimes, it allows you to look at things in a different light. And it's times like those that I don't want the night to end.

*Preliminary Callsheet.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017


I don't remember the first time I saw him, but I remember the show. A shitty low budget thing that took place mostly at the beach starring B List actors.

While I normally love the people I'm working with, the majority of this crew was hit or miss. Some of the drivers were assholes, a few of the grips would whine about anything and everything, and production was a disorganized mess more than usual.

But despite the low rate and shitty company, this guy was pretty chill. And all kinds of cute and kinda hot. And young enough that I know it probably wouldn't work out between us, but not so young that I felt weird about admiring him from afar.

Or rather, secretly because I didn't exactly avoid him. In fact, I kinda did the opposite. I'd always gravitate towards him under the guise of needing to talk to someone in his department. If I saw him around set somewhere by himself, I'd (maybe not so) slyly find a reason to venture over there too. I'd always watch for him out of the corner of my eye, keeping tabs on his whereabouts in an almost stalker-ish way. We'd start off with some small talk, with me hanging on his every word. And while our conversations never got super deep, I learned enough about him to know that I wanted to learn more. He wasn't the type I usually go for or see myself with, but there was just something about him that I was drawn to.

Then the show ended and we went our separate ways without even a goodbye. The last I glimpsed of him, he was in a pass van leaving for crew parking while I headed down an alley to wrap the last of the 4/0.

I thought about him constantly for weeks after, but as time moved on, so did I. Eventually, he settled into a spot in the back of my mind categorized as "that one guy from that one show that I thought was hot and had a small crush on."

Years went by and since I never worked with that crew or production company again, I figured the chances of me seeing him again were slim to none.

Then, one day earlier this year, I opened a pass van door at crew parking and there he was, just sitting there as cool as can be. And just as good looking as I remembered.

We caught up with small talk as much as we could in the ten minute ride to set, and I pathetically found myself falling in the same pattern as I did the first time we worked together. It was almost as if no time had passed. I'd stalk him out of the corner of my eye. It'd just "happen" to be the two of us at crafty. Oh, what a coincidence! We're in the same van together again!

I was behaving like a school girl half my age. Or, if I really wanted to be honest with myself, I was behaving like a school girl a third of my age. It was pathetic and I couldn't help myself. And I'm actually really shocked that no one noticed my slight obsession. And if they did, I'm grateful it didn't become set gossip like this still usually ends up being.

After a couple of weeks of me slyly watching him more than I was watching the set, he vanished once again. A casualty of being a day player. And once again, I watched him pulling away in a van at the end of the night while I was in the truck finishing up some paperwork.

After that, I'd secretly hope he'd come back to day play again. I'd sit through production meetings, hoping big scenes would get even bigger so there'd be a chance for more day players to return. Every time we'd prep to go out on location, I look for his name on the call sheet.

Eventually, the show wrapped without him making another appearance on set and that was that.

Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I was in that last pass van with him. Would we have said an actual goodbye this time? Would I have gotten over him easier if I had that closure? Would I think of him every time I saw a pass van turn a corner? Sometimes I think it's better this way, with me just admiring him from afar. After all, we do have such an age difference between us, and apparently we do, on occasion (though not enough in my opinion) work together. But sometimes, usually in my daydreams or when I have time to think, I can't help but wonder about all the "what-ifs".

In the meantime, the best I can hope for is that sometime soon, thoughts of him will once again settle into the back of my mind, this time categorized as "the guy I had a crush on that made me behave like a teenager."

Thursday, April 27, 2017


Around this time last year, I found myself so busy that I was rejecting about two calls for work a day.

Around this time two years ago, I was simultaneously wrapping one show while prepping another.

Around this time three years ago, I was on a show full time.

But this year? I find myself with a lot of free time on my hands. I'm not sure if it's the looming writer's strike, the lack of work in general, the fact that I've been off the day-playing market for so long or what, but for the first time in about four years, I find myself with more days off than not.

At first it was fabulous. I'd spend days leisurely catching up on some reading, visiting new museums and restaurants, and checking out a new hiking trail I've been meaning to try for the last year and a half. I was having a great "staycation" in L.A., slowly making my way through the touristy things this town has to offer, but we never take the time to do.

It was great. I loved finally having some time off and exploring the little pockets of L.A. that I've always driven past but never stopped to see. Ramen in Little Tokyo? Check. Ube milkshakes in Eagle Rock? Yes, please! Artisan ice cream in Los Feliz? Been there, done that. Seeing the Endeavor space shuttle at the California Science Center? Did it and would do it again. "Unemployed"? More like "Funemployed!"

They say "unemployment is fun for about a week." I always scoffed at that whenever I'd hear someone say that at work. I always thought anything less than a week and a half off was just a tease. But I've now learned that for me, unemployment is fun for about three weeks.

Am I done bumming around L.A.? Hell no. And I don't think I'll ever be. There's so much left on my L.A. Bucket List that it's actually growing. For every one thing I cross off, I learn about two others I want to tackle.

But as much as I love eating and sightseeing my way around town, I can't help but notice that my bank account is shrinking. Los Angeles isn't a cheap town, and neither are the touristy things. I'm not close to being past due on bills by any means, and I did work non-stop all those years to ensure I had a nice nest egg for the slim times like this, but it's hard to justify treating yourself when you haven't had a paycheck in a while and don't know when the next one will come along. After a few years of non-stop work, I've finally convinced myself that it's okay to take time off because there will always be another job around the corner. And now, the calls are coming few and far between. Those old fears come flooding back.

Not only that, but I've re-learned that having all this time off gives you too much time to think. Without the distraction of being on set thirteen hours a day, or your body being so tired you fall asleep the second your head hits the pillow, your mind starts to wander to things that are hard to think about. Like what if you never get as much work again? What if your best years are behind you? Am I on the right path in my career? What will happen to me if I never get there? What if I lose my health insurance? If I get really sick or injured, who will help take care of me? Why do I not have any close female friends here? Do I have any friends here that aren't in the business? Is that normal? Wow, has it really been that long since I've been on a date? Wow, has it really been that long since I've been in a relationship? Wow, has it really been that long since I graduated high school and/or college? And what do I have to show for it? Am I not where I thought I'd be because I was too naive and ambitious? Or is it because I just don't have what it takes? Can I still lead a happy and fulfilled life if I never find "The One"? Yes. No. Yes? I think so? I hope so? I'm happy on my own now, but will that always be the case? Oh, who the fuck knows.

Unemployment leaves a lot of time for self reflection and I'm not sure I'm ready to see what's staring back at me in the mirror.
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License .