Weird Ramblin'

Me: “Yeah, they pushed the film two stops. It’s gonna raise contrast with punchier colors. I can tell they stacked the matte box. You’re getting halo effect. Both those filters are going to cause that issues if the filters are sandwich’d tight.”

Colorist: “You sound like you know what you’re talking about. Did you use to shoot?”

Me: “Yes. I was once a cinematographer. Look at my IMDB credits.”

He never did. Why should he? I’m just a lowly film scanner. The last of a dying breed.

I often think to myself how very little I’ve accomplished with what I set out to Los Angeles to do. But I battle that thought back a lot whenever I take stock in what is in front of me. I think of gratitude a lot. And I am very grateful for the opportunities I’ve had in life. Most people chalk this up to a ton of chutzpah and a dream. I’m not sure where or how I got it, since both my parents are very simple people. In fact, my Mom has never put pressure on me that most Asian mothers do. Yes, she says the typical things. But she has a really decent sense of humor about things. Her response to me going to grad school was a simple “Don’t you think you’ve learned enough?” It was cool that Mom came to my graduation. One of the few memories I wished I remember feeling. My memory is off.

I look back at the arguments I’ve had in life with Mom and regret the things I’ve said in the past (as I’m sure my nephew will with my sister). I’m sure most people when looking back at their teens. I was a shit kid. I should’ve been whupped by either Ma or Pa. I see my nephew has a similar angle. I can see it and it’s aggravating. Mostly because I recall my Ma use to get under my skin by saying how much I was like my grandfather. The guy, from past stories was a grim bastard. I don’t recall the guy ever smiling. Or laughing. He was in Taiwan during World War II occupied by the Japanese. Him and his brother learned Japanese and felt the Japanese were the more higher class. I disliked him a great deal for that.

Anyway, maybe my bastard approach to things and the take-no-prisoners attitude does come from him. I know so very little about him. I have heard murmurs he had depression issues. But I can only attribute it to seeing war. Most people who survived seldom have anything to laugh or smile about. What do I have to complain about?

If I count the things I’ve been involved in, some would see it as mind boggling. I was the first to see footage from the new “Star Wars” movie coming out. THE very first. That included the director. The movie is going to make a gazillion. And here I am still wondering why I haven’t done enough. I think a lot of us in the movie business want that respect from others who are struggling so hard. We will NEVER get it. Two things. One is that no matter what you’ve done…you will eventually fade. Two different models whom I’ve shot photos with didn’t know who Steven Seagal was. Imagine that. My friends have concluded they were idiots. Considering he was only the top earner of 1993 (the same year in which these girls were born), I find their ignorance inexcusable. Considering they want to be in show business. I blame the fact that they were raised by artistic wussed out parents. One where the dad is more the wife. Pussy.

I mean, I shouldn’t be so hard on them. What if someone were to tell me they worked with Tyrone Power. Could I name a movie he was in? Probably not. We all fade.

The other thing is that, because people who want to work in entertainment no longer need to trek out here to Los Angeles, EVERYONE thinks they can make a movie. So they sidestep the system. The lesson to be learned here is that, yes you can produce your project. HOWEVER, just because you can doesn’t mean it’s any good. Or anyone will look at it. In fact, all you do is cloud the pool with your crap. Not to say what I make isn’t crap. But it is supported by a lot of trial and error. A lot of pain. And a ton of sacrifice. Not that you need to sell your soul to win the race, but you do have to have realistic ideas of where you stand. Most young people out here do not. They don’t seem to have the same fear about their goals I remember going through. That might be my perception though. I recall being 22 years old and fearless. Being brazen enough to hang with celebrities and thinking they were lucky to know me…the new face of Hollywood. When you get past 30 years old and you’re thankful the sandbox is still open to you, you really get humble fast. Good luck lasting the rounds in the entertainment ring.

Once you deal with a decade of eating as much pride as you can stomach. You look at the shadow of you and your past. The friends who’ve decided their life settled down. I looked at my high school friends. I’ve no idea how they fill up their day if it isn’t raising their children. Or putting their children first. I envy the moments they see people grow. And then I stop…because I’m sure they envy my drive to do things in this town. A lot of people seem to be curious as to what I do. They know I work out here in Hollywood. Are impressed I had the drive. But, again, there’s what they see as the truth, and what is the reality. The reality is foggy. The limelight is nice. Sometimes. When people know. When they don’t, you do a Reese Witherspoon “Don’t you know who I am?!!” tirade. Both embarrassing and douchey. The worst moments are when I’m at work and all these people at work have similar goals as I do. Although I’m actually taking steps back and going into hiding. They’ve still got hopes and dreams. They then proceed to tell me how production is. Aggravating since I’ve been through productions they will NEVER be involved in. It’s a shitty attitude. But they should really be listening to what I have to say about the business rather than tell me what it’s all about. The ones that REALLY get on my nerves, are the ones who quickly forget my dossier within a day of being “impressed” by what I’ve done in life. Lesson to be learned here…you are what people think you are because of your lot in life you chose to be. In other words, no one will treat you as a special director of photography if you work as a scanner of film for real working cinematographers. If pride was really an issue, I’d be out there doing it instead of telling stories to peons.

Now that I do photography work, I wonder how many think I hang out with cute and pretty woman all day. Bored poolside whilst they feed me grapes. Reality is that I sit in a dark room, in my dirty underwear, sweat stained t-shirt typing a blog listening to Smokey Robinson, wondering why I’m getting shocking migraines. I’m also anxiety ridden wondering if I’ve done enough even though, deep down inside I’ve down so much no one gives a shit about.