You Know You're On The Right Track When...

... You're going through your annual pile of W-2s when you realize the total on one of them is more than what you made the whole year not too long ago.

SNL 40.

I grew up watching Saturday Night Live. I don't remember how old I was when I saw my first episode, but I know I was probably younger than I should've been. My earliest memories of TV include Saturday morning cartoons, shows on PBS and staying up late for SNL; and one of those things is definitely not like the others. Looking back, I suppose it's a bit odd that my parents let me stay up that late, let alone watch something that's not exactly kid friendly.

More often than not, I'd devote my Saturday nights to watching the show, if not, at least a few skits. Even when I was old enough to spend my Saturday nights out with friends, I'd still watch it whenever I could. This weekend ritual lasted up until I left for college, where finding a TV in a dorm room was kind of scarce and spending your Saturday night in front of one was a sign that you're wasting your youth.

Although I haven't really paid attention to the show in recent years, I decided to tune in on Sunday night to watch their 40th anniversary special. I may not know all the cast members or mainstay characters anymore ("The Californians?" Really?), but I figured I should at least pay tribute to a show that's been on for FORTY YEARS and entertained me from childhood to adulthood.

The show was lengthy, but star-studded. And while I caught myself looking at the clock more than once during the three and a half hour broadcast, it was fun to reminisce and re-visit some of the skits and characters I had all but forgotten about. After a while, it seemed to me that this show was more about poking fun at themselves and basically having a big-ass reunion party than putting on a longer version of their weekly show and it was fine by me. It was a show for those who made the show, and after forty years, they absolutely deserved a little bit of celebrating fun.

And if you needed more proof that the whole shindig as something just for them, look no further than the "In Memoriam" part of the ceremony. Not only did they include those who graced the silver screen (John Belushi, Gilda Radner, Chris Farley, etc) but those who we never saw as well. I was surprised to see they paid tribute to crew members who have passed, from prop makers to wardrobe to camera operators, and even more surprising was that the applause and "awws" from the audience filled with SNL alum during those moments rivaled those of the long gone cast members. Unlike the Oscars where there'd be silence when a set designer or writer was remembered, those in the SNL family gave as much respect and remembrance to those behind the camera as those in front of it. The general public may not have cared who those people were, but the people in the audience did, giving as many cheers to a camera operator and cue card holder as they did to Andy Kaufman and John Belushi.

And as the show winded down, they revisited a skit that I had loved as a child but haven't seen in over two decades: Wayne's World.

There they were, Mike Meyers and Dana Carvey sitting on the couch, looking like they hadn't aged a day (mostly).

If you didn't see it, here's their contribution the show:



This was probably my favorite moment in the hours long broadcast. Not only was it a tribute to the crew, but it was done in a way that meant something. It wasn't a cheesy, token, thirty second montage of crew photos and clips. It wasn't a brief speech at the end that no one could hear over the music as the credits rolled ("Thanks to the cast and crew for the last 40 years! Goodnight everybody!"). And they didn't bury it somewhere in the middle of the Top Ten List either (they could have easily put it somewhere below "Lorne Michaels"). Instead, they put the crew first and at the top (which is more than I can say for any show I've worked on), turning the skit done by a popular, iconic duo into something that truly honored those who made the show possible but are never seen, and gave them a moment in the spot light.

At the end of it, Meyers/Wayne and Carvey/Garth did their classic "We're not worthy" bit in respect to those who are on the crew, but in my opinion, nothing is more worthy than that.

I'm Surrounded By Work.

It's finally Saturday and my first chance to sleep in for what seemed like ages.

By the time I pull myself out of bed, I ponder the pros and cons of eating a late breakfast or if I should hold off a bit and eat an early lunch.

I decide to settle for the latter, but make myself a cup of coffee. As I'm setting my mug down and move a pile of duvetyne aside so I have a place to sit, I look around my messier than usual apartment. Not having a decent amount of time off in what seems like eons has led to things piling up in my humble abode and it hits me that I am now literally surrounded by work.

My entryway is littered with work boots, waterproof shoes, and other footwear I only wear on set. My kitchen sink is filled with coffee stained travel mugs that I sip from on my way to work while a substantial collection of snacks I "liberated" from the crafty table hogs the counter. The dining area is currently home to a slew of light bulbs, ratchet straps, gels and other expendables I've acquired from shows that have wrapped but haven't found a storage spot for yet. My coffee table houses an unofficial collection of Sharpies and Marks-A-Lots and C-47s that I forgot were in my pocket until I sat down on my couch after a long day. The couch itself has a pile of industry related newsletters and magazines on one of its cushions and next to my DVD player is a collection of projects I worked on by haven't had the time to check out.

And my bedroom is no better. I have a laundry basket full of clean clothes for work (honestly, I've been procrastinating on putting the clothes away since I know it'll be empty again in a few days as I pull things out of it every morning. I know, I know.) and my hamper is overflowing with dirty ones. My desk holds piles of accumulated business cards, pay stubs, and carbon copies of time cards. More forgotten C-47s pulled from pockets and a bottle of water from craft service sits on my nightstand. The jeans and shirt I wore to work last night (that I really should toss in the hamper) lies in a crumpled pile on my bathroom counter while an (oversized) crew jacket is draped over the back of my chair.

Even my car isn't immune to the take-over. My work bag and rain gear fill my back trunk while my passenger seat could be mistaken for a shrine to old callsheets, lot passes and production maps.

It seems like these days, I'm surrounded by work no matter where I go. Most of the time, I'm either at work or at home where it looks like a work bomb exploded. The rare occasion I have the time to venture out and see friends, it's usually spent hanging out with someone I met while working... And the topic of conversation inevitably leads back to work (not that I mind*).

The only time I can recall not being within reach of anything work related was when I was at the grocery store a couple of weeks ago. And now that I think about it, I bought a couple frozen meals during that trip for the rare occasion where I actually get home from set early enough to eat dinner.

I love what I do for a living so it's no surprise that so much of my life and space is taken over by it. But am I the only one that lives like this? Is there any other industry out there where it's so easy to be consumed by it?





* 1) I've been so busy lately anyway that if I couldn't talk about work, I'd kind of have nothing to to say. I basically have no personal life until the slow season starts. 2) These get togethers often turn into bitchfests about the current or previous shows we were on because we certainly can't vent to our current co-workers for obvious reasons. It's kind of like a support group. 3) They're often a great networking opportunity and you learn who's on what show, where and for how long. Not to mention your showbusiness friends will know if/when you're available should they hear of anything.